


True To You

by ImagineBeatles



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Background Relationships, Brian is the club owner, Falling In Love, George is a stripper, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Misunderstandings, Paul thinks he is straight, Pole Dancing, Ringo is the client, Strippers & Strip Clubs, background pining, bad stripper names, everyone is either gay or bi, john is in love with paul, they fall in love, trying to tag this after four years without rereading the whole thing is difficult
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 12:04:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21373861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImagineBeatles/pseuds/ImagineBeatles
Summary: George works as a stripper in a club. Ringo goes in one day and falls in love with him.
Relationships: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 8
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written four years ago in 2015 and originally posted on tumblr. Beta-read, but my apologies for any mistakes that I made when I was younger. I have not checked it again. 
> 
> Posted now on here as well, thanks to a kind anon on tumblr. Chapters will be added gradually.

His eyelids were heavy as he opened them. The sound of dulled music reached his ears and as he turned to lay on his back a ray of golden light came to rest right over his eyes, temporarily blinding him. He snapped his eyes shut with a groan and rolled back onto his side, away from the light that shone through the little space between the curtains that were meant to block out all the light. When he heard knocking at his door, he remembered what had awoken him in the first place.

“What?!” he shouted at the door. His throat was still croaky and quiet with sleep, but the person behind the door had still been able to hear him. The door opened wide, allowing more of that devious light to pour into the room. He balled up and pulled the covers over his eyes, trying to shield himself from the painful amount of light.

“George, come on, man! We need to get working soon. We’re almost late because of you!” The voice came from the doorway and George groaned again, curling up even more as if to pretend he wasn’t there. Of course Paul would be nagging at his door. They probably weren’t even late. His alarm clock hadn’t gone off yet and he always made certain to set it before taking a nap. It wasn’t the first time Paul had been standing at his bed, trying to usher him out by telling him they were going to be late, even when they still had an hour to get there. It was a mere ten minute drive to the club. There had been no way were they going to be late. Neither would they be this time, George would dare to bet. They were never late.

Still Paul didn’t give up. George heard him come closer by the sound of his heeled shoes on the floorboards. He tensed up, knowing what was coming and clawed at the mattress and blanket, pulling the latter tighter around himself as if it were a cocoon. A hand grabbed him by his shoulder, and tried to roll him over, but George held on tightly, not giving in.

“Come on, George. We have to go. It’s almost eight o'clock. I’m not going to be late because you’re too lazy to do anything. Honestly!” Paul told him sternly, pulling harder and trying to get the blanket away from his friend. George groaned in annoyance, hoping his friend would get the hint. He was still so warm and comfortable. He just needed to lie here a little longer. Just a minute or two. But instead, Paul just grabbed him even tighter, dragging him halfway across the bed.

“Paul! Piss off, you tit. Just let me.” George groaned, wiggling around, desperately trying to free himself from Paul’s iron grip.

“No! If you won’t get out now, we’ll be late. It’s not my fault we have to work, believe it or not. This whole job was your idea in the first place. Now get up, or I’ll drag you with me in whatever you’re wearing right now.”

“Oh come on. You always do this. We’ve never been late and we’ve been doing this for almost a year.”

“Yes, because I make sure you get your lazy arse out of your stinking bed. Now get up, already!”

“No.” George told him stubbornly. Paul sighed in frustration and grabbed the blanket tightly with both hands. With one hard tuck, he managed to free it from George’s hands. He didn’t show any mercy on George, though, and threw it off of his entire body onto the floor, leaving George in nothing but his underwear in the bed with nothing to shield him from the chilly air.

“Paul! You fucker!” George shouted, sitting up in bed and clawing at the bedsheets, wanting it back, but Paul just moved it further across the room.

“Now, get your skinny arse out of bed and get dressed. You’ve got five minutes and not a second longer, or I’ll leave without you.” He told George sternly.

“And how will I get there, then?” George asked. Paul shrugged.

“You’ll walk.” he said. Within two seconds George was standing next to his bed, going through the pile of clothes on a large chair, hurriedly searching for his working outfit, knowing he would not survive walking that distance in heels. He could see Paul smirking to himself from the corner of his eye, before he turned around to allow George some privacy as he changed. The second his door fell close again, a loud ring filled the air. Quickly George turned off his alarm clock.

***

When George finished getting ready, Paul was still waiting for him. He stood by the front door, his puppy eyes elegantly shaped with the help of some black eyeliner and mascara and his full, pouty lips shimmered in the dull light of the one lamp in the corner of that room that was still on. His mop-top framed his handsome face perfectly, accentuating his more feminine features and making his chubby cheeks appear even more chubby. He wore a pair of dark blue slacks, which George knew would soon be traded in for something a lot more cheeky, and a long black coat that looked expensive, but probably wasn’t. His friend looked positively gorgeous. George could easily understand why he was the favourite of most customers. The other man’s lips curled up in a little smile as he saw him get out of the room all ready to go and even George felt the palms of his hands get damp.

“Ready to go?” Paul asked, glancing at his watch. George hummed in agreement, finding it difficult to speak. He snatched his keys from the mantelpiece, before following Paul out of the apartment.

It was cold outside, the winter chill slowly creeping into the dark streets of the most dark side of the city. A dog barked somewhere far away and George could hear the sirens of the police cars and ambulances that drove fast through the city. It was never completely quiet in this side of town, but George didn’t mind much. The rent was cheap and the apartment itself wasn’t even half bad. It was clean and rather spacious, considering where they lived. And once you got to know the people who lived around these parts, it wasn’t even half bad. People looked out for each other here. The stories were always worse than reality, George had found. Since he had moved here he had been mucked only once. Still, he couldn’t help but hold onto his keys in the pocket of his coat as he and Paul walked over to the cheap, second hand, black Citroën, that Paul had gotten cheaply with some of his father’s aid. Even after almost one and a half years, George did not feel safe, especially in the evenings. He was happy when they finally got into the car. Relieved, he let go of his keys and removed his hands from the pockets of his coat to fumble with the stereo to find some good music to listen to on the way to work.

“I’ve got an Elvis cd in the glove compartment, if you want to listen to some good old Rock ‘n Roll.” Paul offered as he started the car, shifted into gear and took off the parking brakes. George nodded and reached into the messy compartment. After a little bit of moving things around, he finally found the cd. They drove off listening to the warm, soothing voice of The King singing to them.

***

As the two men entered the badly lit, smoky club, a man was waiting for them by the door that led to the dressing rooms. He didn’t look like a guy who you’d often see in a seedy place like this. He had a Jewish look about him and he wore a rather neat American suit, that was probably more expensive than it looked, complete with tie and perfectly styled hair. The man shot him and Paul an angry look as they reluctantly approached. George took a quick peek at his watch and cursed to himself as he found that Paul had been right and that they were exactly four minutes late. He looked at his friend from the corner of his eye, but Paul didn’t seem at all bothered. Instead he smiled in a manner that George knew far too well. He often used the smile on the customers to help them empty their wallets a lot faster.

“Good-evening, Mr Epstein.” he said politely, nodding as he walked past. George tried to follow him, but before Paul had even laid his hand on the door knob, the man called them back.

“Is there something amiss, sir?” Paul asked innocently, batting his eyelashes.

“Wrong? Yes, you could say so. As it happens, I’m supposed to open this club in a minute and you two are five minutes too late.” Mr Epstein answered, crossing his arms before his chest. George swallowed thickly, always feeling a little intimidated by the older man, which he supposed was somewhat natural, seeing as he was his boss. He looked from the one guy to the other as they continued their talk.

“Yes, sir. We realised that. But-” Paul said. However, he was interrupted before he could defend them both.

“You know I don’t like it when people can’t come in on time, McCartney. As do you, Mr Harrison. I’ve been more than clear about this fact, don’t you boys agree?”

“Why, yes! Of course. Only, George had some trouble with his alarm clock. That’s fixed now, however. It won’t happen again. We can promise that.”

“Won’t it? Well, seeing as it’s Mr Harrison’s fault for both your delay, he can make it up to me by dancing tonight.” Mr Epstein said, turning his head to meet George’s eyes with his own. George’s went wide as he realised what was asked of him.

“D-dance?” he asked, stammering over his own words, “I can’t dance. I’ve not rehearsed. I don’t even have my outfit with me.”

“That won’t matter. You’re good enough to take over Sutcliffe’s shift tonight. The lad called in sick. You’re the perfect replacement. You can borrow some of Paul’s clothing. That ought to fit you.”

“But, can’t Paul do it?” George asked. Mr Epstein raised an eyebrow at the question, and George immediately regretted asking it. “I mean, he is more popular. I’m sure the customers would much rather see him perform than me.” he continued nevertheless. Mr Epstein laughed at that and petted George on the shoulder.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. Paul will be dancing tomorrow, so I need him fit for that. Besides, I’m certain more people would appreciate it if he waited on them. Some private time always makes more money. Also, Mr Harrison, if I’ve understood correctly, it was your fault you two were late. It would only be appropriate for you to make up for it, wouldn’t it?” he said. George sighed, but nodded reluctantly. It was better not to argue with Mr Epstein. That normally didn’t end well. Except for John, another employee, who mostly tended the bar and waited. Of course, that was only because Mr Epstein had a soft spot for John. Or actually, that was not the best phrase to use. One might even say he was in love with him. It was generally known by the employees and even John knew, but he wasn’t interested.

Mr Epstein smiled at George and squeezed his shoulder with the hand that still lay there. George gritted his teeth, but didn’t say anything until Mr Epstein was satisfied and had left.

“Fuck…” He said under his breath at the floor. He really didn’t like dancing. Well, not like this. He liked the more personal sessions, the lap dances and such things. Not the striptease on the stage all alone with all the eyes on him as he removed more and more clothing and showed them more and more of his body. It embarrassed him, which he could mostly use to his advantage, but he needed to mentally prepare himself for it. He didn’t like being the centre of attention. He preferred to be in the back- he had done so since he was a schoolboy- or to perform face to face to one person in particular. Those were his strengths, not the solo acts. He already felt his cheeks heathen and his palm get moist at the thought of it. He looked up at Paul with hopeful eyes, but he already knew he couldn’t do anything for him. Paul knew about his handicap, as his boss referred to it. George couldn’t get mad over that, though. It was rather odd, being a professional stripper but not daring to do the actually stripping on a stage to music.

“Stuart was supposed to dance around one o'clock, I believe,” Paul interrupted his thoughts, “We can practice together a little before that, if you want to.” Paul offered and George smiled at him thankfully. At least Paul wasn’t one to say ‘I told you so’, but instead was always supportive of him. He had been ever since they had met on the bus to school one day. He was the best friend he’d ever had.

“Thanks mate.” he said, making Paul smile.

“Don’t mention it. Now, let’s find you something to wear.” he said as he took George’s sweaty hand and dragged him to the dressing room, where he had his clothing, if one could call it that.

***

The remaining couple of hours before it was his time to go on stage, George couldn’t bring himself to relax as he tended the different men and allowed them to squeeze his arse. Normally there was a rule that said customers weren’t allowed to touch the waiters without their explicit say-so, but George was too far away with his mind to care. He couldn’t stop thinking about his co-workers who were performing on stage together or alone and the outfit Paul had picked out for him to wear. It would leave little to the imagination, consisting of nothing more than a pair of mid-thigh fishnets, some ridiculously tight black shorts that had that “wet look” about them with suspenders, and a tight, crisp white button-down shirt with tie and waistcoat, which he would need to take off during the act. He’d wear heeled black shoes to go with it. Paul told him it would work, so he had gone with that outfit. Besides it would look great with his usual fangs. Ever since he had gone as a vampire last Halloween, the fangs were part of his standard uniform. Bloody annoying, they were, but the people liked them, so Brian wouldn’t have him work without them since then. 

Briefly, George thought whether it would be easier to just go on stage naked, save perhaps the shorts. For obvious reasons, he decided against that when he felt another curious hand roam over his left arse cheek. George quickly pushed all thoughts to the back of his mind, and turned to the man and playfully scolded him, which seemed to amuse the man. George winked at him and asked him if he’d wanted another drink, which the guy happily accepted. When George turned around again to get the man his drink, his bum was slapped again and he jumped comically, before hurrying on, making the man behind him laugh. When he looked, he noticed a five pound note tucked into his shorts.

George didn’t want to think about the performance. He didn’t want to think about the fact that all the men who were currently checking out his arse as he brought them alcoholic drinks would be watching him undress with hungry eyes and watering mouths. It didn’t matter how many times he had done it, he could not get used to the idea. He didn’t mind walking around half-naked for a bunch of random guys whose names he didn’t even know or even sit in their laps, but it felt odd to do it on a stage with an entire crowd watching. Still he found his mind being pulled to the thought of it, even when he leaned across the bar to snatch a bottle of beer from the mini-fridge, as there was no normal way of getting behind that bar, expect from backstage. Briefly he wondered where John - the bartender who was supposed to give him this bottle, rather than having him almost break his neck - was hiding now. Sometimes George and Paul would wonder why Brian still kept him around. Anyone else would have fired him long ago.

“Trying to break your neck, Fangy?” George’s body went completely rigid in shock, causing him to almost lose his balance and slide face-first down the bar and onto the floor. Luckily, John caught him just in time before he hit the ground, lifting him back up onto his feet, before getting the bottle for him with a knowing grin. George shot him an angry look, but could feel his cheeks burn red from embarrassment.

“Fuck you, Lennon. And don’t call me that.”

“Sorry, mate. Didn’t know you were in a mood.” John apologised, picking up some just cleaned glasses and drying them with the towel he had been wearing thrown over his shoulder.

“It’s a stupid name.” George told him. John frowned at him and if this wasn’t John, George would have been worried they were going to have a serious talk about his well-being.

“Could be worse. At least you’re not called Brutus Hardcock or something. That’d be much worse.” John laughed, and George snickered along, knowing his friend was right.

“And Long John Silver, isn’t that great either.” John continued. George shrugged.

“But at least your name won’t be shouted into the audience tonight before you get to take your clothes off.”

“No, but I won’t be taking my clothes off, anyway, tonight.”

“I’m talking about myself.” George cut in, sighing deeply and playing nervously with the bottle of beer in his hand. He knew he should be going and bring the guy his beer. Brian won’t be happy with him if he won’t do his job and that would only make things worse.

“I thought it wasn’t your evening?” John asked him, sounding honestly confused. George shook his head and put down the bottle of beer, before slipping on a barstool, deciding it was probably better to do this sitting down in order to save his poor feet.

“It isn’t. We turned up late, Paul and I. Brian considered this appropriate since Stuart called in sick.”

“Shit, mate. I feel ya. Don’t worry, though. I’ll make sure these boys behave appropriately and whistle at the right times. And when you’re done, I’ll get you a beer. My pay.” John told him with a sympathetic wink. George smiled thankfully at him, before getting up and walking back into the crowd to give the guy his drink. He’s been waiting long enough.

“You’ll be fine, Geo! You’re one sexy arse on that stage, believe me!” He could heard John shout after him. George couldn’t help but feel better because of him. John might be a dick at times, but he’s one hell of a good friend. George knew how lucky he was.


	2. Chapter 2

It was only another fifteen minutes before George was due on stage. He was Paul were backstage, getting him properly dressed and making sure his make-up was spot on, as well as going over the choreography one last time. It wasn’t a difficult routine. Just the basics with a couple of variations to keep everyone entertained, making only a little use of the pole, because George felt so nervous he was afraid he’d fall if he hung from it for more than a minute or so. The basics worked best on the crowd anyway, especially this late at night when most had far too much to drink, and simply wanted some titillating, light nudity. Just enough to get their imaginations running wild, of course. Though it was a great relief, George still felt as if he was going to throw up.

“Oh shut up. You’re not going to throw up. You’ve done this plenty of times before. And you always do great once you’ve gotten started.” Paul told him sternly as he looked up at him through his eyelashes from where he was kneeling in front of George to make help him make sure his tights were on properly. George scoffed at that.

“Besides,” Paul continued with a smirk, “There’s a reason why Brian doesn’t want you to dance without those fangs. They love you with them. You’re gonna drive them mad, darling.” The older man’s grin changed into a proper smile when he noticed a light pinkish blush spreading across George’s cheeks.

“If you say so…”

“Of course! Now, spin for me.” Paul ordered, rather than asked, as he gave George’s calf a playful slap, before standing up. George obeyed and spun around slowly, letting Paul inspect every inch of him. He smiled when he saw Paul nodding approvingly, baring his fake fangs.

“Gorgeous! Now, keep that smile and take off your clothes like a good boy.”

***

Richard wasn’t sure what he was doing at this place. From the moment he had opened the solid wooden doors that were only accessible via a dark alleyway, sultry jazz music and cigarette smoke had engulfed him and the smell of alcohol, sweat and cheap cologne had travelled its way up into his nostrils. The whole club was extremely dark, except for the large stage that was tastefully lighted up. The stage floor was a standard wooden floor that looked like it had been laying there for the past one hundred and fifty years without any kind of proper care, with a strip pole in the centre, which looked easy to get rid off when needed. A runway came a little further into the crowd, but wasn’t lit up at the moment. Right now, a very pretty young man hung from the pole, wearing barely anything more than underwear, since what clung around his chest was not something that Richard would classify as a shirt. The walls were all black with a few brick walls with dirty posters on them. Next to the stage were three doors with, one leading backstage and to the bathrooms and the other two to private rooms, wherein some men would disappear with one or two strippers on their arms (Ringo guessed for an overly expensive private session). At the back there was a large bar with a couple of stools and in the middle there were even more tables with seats, all more or less turned towards the stage. 

The men sitting there were mostly drunk or fat or ugly. Most of them were older than him, ranging from their late thirties to early fifties, or even older than that. Ringo almost felt bad for the gorgeous young men tending to them in little clothing and having their bottoms squeezed whenever one man thought that was the appropriate thing to do. He was surprised however, when he noticed a few young men and even women sitting at a couple of tables as well.

Still, it wasn’t a dirty place and actually seemed more up-class and less sleasy than most stripclubs he’s been to. It was clean and the boys working there seemed happy to work, joking with each other and playfully attending to their customers. They seemed to genuinely enjoy themselves, which was much better than the previous club Richard had gone to. There was even more security spread around the place to keep an eye on everyone. He was surprised when one of them actually walked over to a man, about forty-two, who got a little too handsy and who wouldn’t listen to the waiter he was groping when he told him to stop or else he’d be thrown out. He was even more surprised when the man was actually told to get his stuff and was escorted outside within no time, even when he tried to buy himself out of it. Richard smiled to himself. At least this club seemed to treat its workers with respect and care.

He took a seat on the left side of the stage, a little more to the back, since the front seats near the runway were all taken. Immediately there was a handsome boy standing next to him to take his order. His light brown, almond eyes seemed to sparkle as he listened to him and wrote down his order, probably happy to be serving a younger man for once. Richard supposed they didn’t see guys in their twenties here often. The man winked at him, before turning around and offering Richard a good look at his bum as he bended over to gather some empty glasses from the table next to his. His cock already gave a twitch in his trousers.

***

The music ended, and the sound of men and a few women applauding and whistling increased and filled the air instead. George took in a few deep breaths as he watched his co-worker slowly get off the stage, taking his clothing with him. He grinned at George and patted him on the shoulder.

“You’ll do good, Harrison. It’s an easy crowd tonight.” He whispered into his ear, before giving him one last pat on the back and going backstage to freshen up. George couldn’t hear his name being announced, because of the blood rushing through his ears. When he felt Paul place a hand at the small of his back and give him a little push, he took one last deep breath. Determinedly, he moved onto the stage to take his position.

The lights were out and George could see the many men and some women look towards the stage, but they couldn’t see him. Not yet. He took one last deep breath and gave a short nod, signalling that he was ready. A second or two later, the music started and the lights went on. One single spotlight was shining right onto him. His vision blackened from the suddenly light, making it impossible to see the audience. Feeling more self-assured, George slowly started to move to the music, circling his hips only every so slightly with the rhythm of the music. Keeping his head lowered to the ground, he let his movements grow bolder, making his rotations larger and slowly sliding his right hand up over his thigh and chest to play with his tie. The corners of his mouth curled up in a cheeky smile as some slightly drunk men already tried to cheer him on.

He lowered his fingers and pulled at the top button of his shirt, popping it loose just as the music stopped for a second, creating tension. He cocked his head up to flash them that grin, licking with his tongue across his false fangs, taking advantage of the atmosphere than hung around the club. Immediately the crowd whistled and a couple of cat-calls were shot his way. Perhaps Paul was right. They did dig his teeth! Feeling more self-assured, he started strutting languidly across the stage, letting all the tension in his body fall away with every step, every rotation of his hips and every button he popped open.

Within a minute he was feeling confident and had fallen into the strange rhythm of the song, making it less and less difficult to give himself over to it and tease his appreciative audience. He smiled broadly at them as he ripped the waistcoat open that was still hanging over his now opened shirt and let it fall from his shoulders. He threw it to a man at the front with a playful wink. The guy blushed heavily, watching George with a stunned expression on his face. He had been so stunned that he didn’t even notice it when his friend snatched the clothing piece from his lap and kept it for himself. Just to make it even harder for the man, George bowed forward towards him, his face right before the other’s man’s and let his hot breath ghost over the man’s lips as he let a hand run through his hair, taking advantage of what he knew best, eye-to-eye stripping, as if it were just the two of them. When the guy let out a helpless whine, he pulled back again with a teasing smirk. The guy followed his hand mindlessly, nearly falling forward and head first onto the ground, if it wasn’t for the said friend, who pulled him back up with a laugh. George blew him a kiss before he turned away from them and continued his routine, swaying his hips and teasing them with everything he had, feeling a lot better about himself.

***

Ringo watched with amusement as the man pulled away from the poor guy in the front row with a wink. The main reason why he rarely sat in the first two rows of the audience was exactly that. He was terrified of being picked out and teased with. It did not matter what kind of show, but especially at stripclubs he tried to sit a table away from the stage - far enough to be save from the performer, but close enough to enjoy the show.

Still chuckling at the guy’s misfortune, Ringo sat back a bit and studied the young man on the stage. He wasn’t sure what it was, but the young man had caught his eye, which didn’t happen often to Ringo. Certainly not at a stripclub! He knew better than to fall in love with a stripper. He had watched the movies. It was all show, even the chemistry someone might feel in the moment with one of them. In the end, it’s simply a job for them, a way to make a living. You wouldn’t ask a famous pianist to play solely for you at your home just because you’re dating him, would you?

He watched silently as the younger man performed, his cock growing with interest as the lad walked over the walkway and further into the crowd. He strutted perfectly, swaying his hips and making his heels clack clearly on the floor, occasionally bending down and wiggling his arse or playing with one of the guys in the crowd, who mostly reached into the back of the lad’s shorts to stuff it with bills. The lad would simply smile and wink at them, playing with them and teasing them with his skinny legs and elegant feet, even going as far as pushing them back with his heels, before wrapping his ankle around the man’s neck to press the man’s face closer to his crotch, making the crowd cheer enthusiastically and the guy blush and stammer as he stared. The whole performance was insanely provocative, but without being too lewd, keeping it mostly to hinting at erotic stuff, than actually doing it and keeping most of his clothes on his body.

When he reached the front of the stage, he caught Ringo eye. He was looking right at him and for a second Ringo found it difficult to breathe. He couldn’t move in his seat as the lad kept looking straight at him as he walked over to the large pole which had appeared at the front of the runway to rut against, playing with it and teasing it as if it was his lover, rather than actually using it for poledancing. Ringo couldn’t look away. His throat had gone completely dry and his cock as pressing against the zipper of his trousers. Then the guy grabbed his shirt and swiftly pulled it off, revealing his naked upper body that was sparkling from glitter in the light as he moved, with now only the loosened tie dangling from his neck. He wrapped the shirt around the pole and pulled himself up against is, wrapping one leg around the pole as he lifted himself, before leaning backward, pressing his cock alongside it. He held himself there for a little while, his hips gyrating to the rhythm of the sultry music as some lads reached forward to fold some more bills along his stocking or into his shorts, their hands stealing touches curiously..

Then suddenly the music stopped and the lad let himself fall to the ground, earning a gasp from the audience. You could only see it for a second before the lights went out, covering the stage in complete darkness, leaving the tension in the air. When the lights went on again, the lad was had already walked back to the stage, where some guys were reaching for him with bills and smiles on their face as the lad danced for them a little more, wiggling his arse right before their face, or almost rubbing his crotch into their faces as if he was fucking their mouths. Smiling and winking happily when the guys gave him more money, which the lad took swiftly from them, once even taking if from some old guy’s mouth with his own, winking at him. He teased them all, never staying long by each person and quickly gathering all the money he could get without losing the sexiness of the performance.

He smirked and picked up a bowler hat at the front of stage. He placed it elegantly onto his head before disappearing with one last wink and lick across his oddly long, fang-like teeth. It had been directed at the entire audience, although Ringo could have sworn the lad had been looking directly at him, rather than the crowd. When the lad had left the stage, Ringo remembered how to breathe again and drank the entire glass of beer that had been put down for him during the performance. Ringo hadn’t even noticed.

***

“See! I told you you were amazing. You always do this, Geo. You always get worked up and than you do that! Honestly, I don’t know why you always get so nervous.” Paul greeted him excitedly when George made it backstage, trying very hard to get the younger man excited about the performance thing. George didn’t try to correct him, though, knowing fully well he had made some mistakes and that he wasn’t nearly as good as Paul was. He was out-of-breath and finally let himself go, panting heavily and wiping off the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand, taking some makeup off with it. Paul chuckled as a white spot appeared right on George’s forehead.

“Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up, before Brian starts asking around where we are.” Paul said, wrapping his arm around George’s shoulder and escorting him to the dressing rooms.

“Shouldn’t you be working?” George asked Paul, feeling flustered by the way Paul was mother henning him. He tried to wiggle free, but Paul’s grip only grew tighter and when he pressed him closer, George gave up. Even after all the years they’ve been friends, Paul still felt the inexplicable need to look after him, being the older one. Even though it was only by nine months. Paul turned his head to grin mischievously at the younger man and shook his head.

“Not when a certain John Lennon is making sure you won’t be missed by getting off that lazy arse of his and handing the drinks out himself. Besides, this was a little bit my fault. If I had woken you up earlier, we wouldn’t have been late. My moral support is my way of repaying you.” He told him, and George rolled his eyes and tried to push Paul off him again. This time he caught him by surprise and he managed to free himself, before Paul could pull him back against him.

“Yeah right. You know I don’t like people watching me from the back when I’m dancing. It’s embarrassing. And no, you are not waking me up any earlier, so I’ll start wearing earplugs to be from now on.” He told him sternly, quickening his pace when he saw Paul reaching for him again. The older man snickered, but nodded, surrendering. George’s eyes narrowed, not trusting his friend at all. Paul wouldn’t surrender that quickly.

“Okay. Fine. I won’t try to wake up any earlier. Seems like you only take longer then anyway. And I thought you’d like the idea of having me near just is case.”

“Well, I don’t. I’ve been doing this for almost a year, mind you.”

“It’s not my fault you always seem to have a heart attack when you have to go on stage on your own.”

“I get nervous. Besides, I know you simply don’t want to work and rather be texting your girlfriend all evening.” George replied with a knowing smirk. Paul gasped at that.

“How do you know?!” He asked, stopping in his tracks. George turned to look at him.

“You’re not allowed to have your phone with you. Brian says it can be stolen.” He explained, nodding in the direction where Paul’s phone was clearly visible in his tight shorts. Paul looked down and grumbled some curses about how maybe Brian should allow them to wear better trousers instead of banning phones, and George merely chuckled, before grabbing his friend by his arm and pulling him with him.

“I’d put that away if I were you, before Brian sees it.” He said and Paul nodded reluctantly, before wrapping his arm back around George now he was close enough and walking further to the dressing rooms, grinning to himself as George started to struggle against him once more.

***

“There you two are. I was beginning to worry Eppy had decided to kill the two of you anyways for turning up late.” John said with a serious expression on his face as he saw his two friends approach. He put down the glass he had been cleaning and threw the towel over his shoulder. Paul shrugged as he let himself flop onto one of the barstools.

“Yeah, he tried. We could only just escape. We’ve locked him in a cupboard to wait until the police arrives.” He said, playing along with John’s stupid game. George sat down on a stool next to him and leaned his hand under his chin on the bar.

“Want me to call them?” John asked Paul, still not giving up on his game. Paul couldn’t help but snickered before answering.

“Nah. George set of the fire alarm. They should be here in a few.”

“So, want a drink for while we wait? I promised George a free beer.” John asked, bending down to get George his beer. Paul nodded.

“Yeah. Whiskey if you have it. I need a little something if I want to survive another two hours of dirty arse pervs squeezing my bottom.” He sighed, faking a smile. John laughed and grabbed the bottle of whiskey and a glass for Paul.

“For you always, Macca. And you do have a very pretty arse.” He said and Paul shot him a glare. John simply stared back as he poured him his drink and handed it to him, before opening the two beer bottles and sliding one into George’s opened hand, who thanked him.

“So Georgie, dancing went well, didn’t it?” John asked, as he drank some of his own beer. George hummed in agreement before following his example. From the corner of his eye he could see Paul looking around the club, smiling and lightly flirting when some man passed him by with lust-hungry eyes. He could see that John was watching Paul as well, his expression surprisingly blank, although George could see his knuckles growing white as he grabbed the towel from his shoulder again and started to dry off some more glasses.

“How do you even deal with that every night?” John asked his friend, who merely shrugged as he drank his whisky and continued to stare into the crowd.

“You know that man, George?” Paul asked after a few seconds, pointing with his pinky at a table a little at the back of the club. The man that was sitting at the table was alone and didn’t seem older than twenty-five. When the man turned his head shyly in their direction, George recognised him right away. It was that handsome blue-eyed man he had seen in the crowed when he had been dancing. When the young man saw him looking into his direction, he quickly averted his eyes and George did the same.

“No,” He answered Paul’s question, “Never seen him. Why?”

“He was watching you just now. Until he noticed me looking. You sure you don’t know him?” Paul asked, looking away from the blue-eyed man and turning in his seat so he was facing the bar and had his back facing the crowd, not wanting to deal with any more hungry looks while he was taking a short break. George frowned and looked at him again, but shook his head.

“No. I know he was watching me dance.” He answered, looking away as well.

“Maybe he likes you?” John brought in, drinking half of his beer in one go. George blushed at that and shook his head.

“Doubt it.”

“Why? You’re cute. Why wouldn’t he like you?” Paul asked, sounding genuinely surprised. George shot him a look as he drank some more beer as well. “What? It’s true. Right, John?”

“Oh yes. I’d fuck your arse anytime, George.” John teased with a wink, laughing when George almost choked on his beer. Paul patted his back when he started coughing, trying to get the burning alcohol out of his lungs.

“Very funny, John.” Paul scolded the older man, who only smirked, enjoying himself far too much.

“He doesn’t like me. He likes the fact that I’m half naked and he only has to whip out a five pound bill and I’ll be all over him. It’s the power that does it.” George explained, his voice a low growl.

“And they say he’s the naive one of the two.” John chuckled, offering Paul another whisky as a peace offering, not wanting to have him sulking at him for the rest of the evening. Luckily, Paul excepted and they left the conversation at that. Still, George couldn’t help but occasionally glance at the blue-eyed man from the corner of his eye. When he looked the last time and noticed he was gone, he couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

The three of them chatted for a little while longer, starting to feel more and more at ease as the alcohol started to numb them a little. When John offered Paul a third glass, Paul refused. And George refused the third beer John offered him.

“We’d better get back to work.” Paul told John with a half-drunken smile, nodding with his head into the direction of the door that led to the backstage area. Brian Epstein was standing in the doorway, his little notebook in hand as usual as he took in every detail of the club. George felt himself tense up at the sight, knowing it would be bad if he spotted him and Paul chatting rather than stripping, especially now they were already late. He nodded and watched as Paul walked away to find someone to entertain. He looked up at John expectantly and waited for him to place some drinks on a tray for him to bring to the right customers.

Just as Brian’s gaze fell on them, George took the tray and started to walk off. As he caught the manager’s eye he smiled at him, trying to act as casually as possible. Brian was not a suspicious man. Besides, over the last year they had grown quite close even. If they hadn’t been late, he wouldn’t have minded one bit if they had decided to take a small break. Brian smiled back at him shyly, his eyes lowering unintentionally to George’s arse. They shot back up as soon as he noticed and looked the other way, making George chuckle.

When he walked past the table where the blue-eyed man had been sitting, he couldn’t help but check if he hadn’t left him a number or something, which happened about four times a week. Mostly they were guys too desperate and ugly to consider and only wanted sex anyway. Most of the time it was insulting, but this time he hoped his had. When he didn’t see anything, he sighed and cleared the table.


	3. Chapter 3

George didn’t say much during the drive home, preferring to listen to the music softly playing as he stared out of the window at the deserted streets of London. Paul was tapping along to the music with his fingers on the steering wheel, as he drove them home. George could sometimes feel Paul’s eyes on him, studying him and probably wondering what went on is his friend’s head, since he normally was a lot more talkative. Or rather, more inclined to listen to Paul talk. Whereas George would normally actively listen to what Paul had to say and ask questions, he had now only hummed whenever Paul wanted him to say something in reply. Eventually he had just given up.

In all honesty, George didn’t feel like listening to Paul talk, but he didn’t want to be rude and tell him that, knowing he’d hurt Paul’s feelings. It was only that his mind was too busy thinking about himself. All he could think about were those shiny blue-eyes staring at him in the crowd. He knew he was stupid for even thinking about him. He was a customer, there was no way he’d actually be interested in him. Besides, George had agreed with himself that he wouldn’t go out with anyone he’d meet at work at the first day he had started, not wanting to end up in some kind of “pretty woman-esque” life. Of course, George knew that would never happen either, since men didn’t fall in love with strippers. It was more the idea of them that appealed to them. It was the same reason why George always felt like a piece of meat whenever he went on stage. Not that he didn’t like his job. He enjoyed it immensely and it was a lot of fun, even the performing on stage. But he didn’t have any illusions about the men who’d be watching him.

“George? Are you okay?” Paul asked, interrupting George’s thinking. The younger man simply hummed in reply again, closing his eyes and letting out a yawn. It was almost four o’clock in the morning, and the nap hadn’t been enough to keep him well and energized after a whole day of uni and work. Friday evenings always were the hardest.

“Are you still having dinner at Jane’s tomorrow?” George asked, humoring Paul and hoping he’d drop it if he’d let him speak for a while. He turned away from the window and looked at Paul, who smiled at the mention of his girlfriend.

“Yeah. She’ll pick me up around eleven. We’ll have lunch and see this movie that came out a few days ago. Oh, and before I forget, me and Jane will be having dinner with her parents, so I can’t pick you up before work.” Paul spoke, obviously feeling a lot better now it wasn’t as quiet in the car. George stared at him at the news, immediately regretting having gotten rid of his bicycle.

“What? And how am I supposed to get to work then? I mean, you will drive home with me, right?”

“Yes, of course. And it’s only a short walk.”

“Short walk?! It’s thirty minutes, Paul! I can’t walk thirty minutes on four inch-heels. Unlike you.”

“Of course you can! You dance on them, right? Walking is easier.”

“Not on the street, it isn’t.”

“Then just put on regular shoes and take your heels with you! That’s what most people do. I can’t come pick you up, Geo.”

“Can’t you leave sooner?”

“And tell the what? I’m sorry I can’t stay for dessert but I work as a male stripper and I have to pick up my best mate before work because he can’t walk in heels, but only strip in them. But really, I’m a great boyfriend for your daughter!” Paul said sarcastically.

“Just lie!”

“George, this dinner is really important to me, okay? And I can’t leave at seven because I have to pick you up because you can’t be bothered to find another ride or simply walk like everyone else.” Paul told George sternly, his fingers tightening on the wheel in annoyance. George sighed, and looked away again, folding up his arms before his chest.

“Why don’t you ask John to pick you up, then? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. I’m sorry, Geo, but I can’t screw this up. It’s the first time I meet them. I really like this girl, you know that.”

“Yeah, I do. Fine. I’ll call John in the morning.”

“Thanks, George. And if that doesn’t work, you can borrow my bicycle. The keys are in the pocket of my leather jacket.”

“Yeah, sure.”

***

The following morning George woke up at half past eleven in the morning to find that Paul had already left, leaving him a note on the kitchen table. He went to put the kettle on and read the note while he waited for the water to boil. He snorted when he realised it was only a note to remind him to call John for a ride and that there were still some leftovers from the evening before in the fridge if he didn’t feel like cooking for himself that evening. He had even written down John’s phone number. George bawled up the piece of paper in his fist and threw it in the bin, before pouring himself a cup of tea and grabbing the phone to call John, figuring that if John wasn’t up yet, it be time for him to be. John didn’t pick up the first time, so George called again. This time he got a grumpy sounding John Lennon on the phone.

“What?” was the first thing John grumbled from the other end of the line. George couldn’t help but smirk as he realised he had woken him up.

“You awake, Lennon?” He asked, before taking a sip from his tea, enjoying the way it warmed up his body. He could hear John curse and groan for a bit before he finally answered.

“I bloody well am now. What do you want, George?” He grumbled, before letting out a long yawn, that made George yawn as well. John snickered when he heard.

“Just wanted to know if you could give me a lift to work this evening.” George replied.

“What? Paul finally broke up with you?” John joked.

“No.” George quickly replied, blushing slightly, “He’s having dinner with Jane’s parents. He doesn’t have the time to pick me up before work or we’ll be late again. Once was enough for Paul.”

“Right. Yeah, I can pick you up if you want. But we’ll have to be there early. Eppy asked me to help him out before we open. There’s this guy who wants to rent the place for some stupid party or something. I don’t really know, since I wasn’t listening.”

“Do you ever listen?”

“I would if people would start saying things that actually interested me.” John grumbled back, his voice still thick with sleep. George couldn’t help but chuckle.

“How would you know they’d be saying something interesting if you’re never listening.” He asked, drinking the last of his tea as he waited for John to answer. John seemed to think about it for a while, before he finally answered with another yawn.

“I guess it’s one of the great mysteries of life. Now, what do you say, Harrison? You mind coming in a little early?”

“No, that’s fine. What time will you pick me up? Oh, and I’ll be driving back with Paul, so don’t worry about that.”

“We could have some fun together before work, if you’re up to it. I can be at your place in about an hour. Unless you have more important things to do.” John asked, sounding too smug to think that George had anything better to do than spend time with him. George bit his lip and looked over at the dining table where his assignments for university were waiting for him. They had to be finished on Monday and he really wasn’t getting anywhere yet. Combining work with university was tiring and he normally really needed his Saturday afternoons to do some work, but if he was honest with himself he really didn’t feel like doing anything. And he would rather hang out with John for a bit, than bury himself into those thick books and try to make some sense out of it.

“I kind of have some assignments to work on…” The words had left his mouth before he had even realised it. God, Paul’s influence was shining through.

“Good. I’ll help.” John replied matter-of-factly and George burst out in laughter.

“Yeah, that will be a great idea! Remember the last time I let you help me out. You sneakily wrote that some musicians and artists are bigger than Jesus, because of their influence on today’s youth. Some professors still give me funny looks because of that!”

“That wasn’t my fault. You just should have proof read it.”

“I did! But then you added it in anyway. And without telling me!”

“It’s not my fault you chose to study something as daft as Religious Studies. You brought all of this on to yourself. Besides, you got a 78% for it, because of your revolutionary thoughts.”

“Yes, after I told them you were sabostasing me. I could have gotten a 85% easily if it hadn’t been for you.”

“Minor detail. So what? I’m coming over in an hour and a half, alright. And don’t forget to get us something to eat, too.” John told him sternly from the other side of the line, leaving little room for debate, for which George was actually glad. He smiled and nodded, before realising he was talking through the phone and John couldn’t actually see him.

“Yeah, fine. But you’re not helping me with my assignments.”

“Fine. But you’re missing out, son.” John replied, before hanging up.

***

Two hours later, George opened the door to a grinning John Lennon, who was leaning against the doorway with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. Before George had even time to say anything, John had already pushed the flowers into his face.

“From your handsome blue-eyed admirer.” He said, making George roll his eyes, before taking the flowers from him and turning around to put them in some water.

“What? Not gonna tip the messenger?” John laughed as he stepped inside and shut the door to the apartment behind him. He shrugged off his coat and threw it in a corner as George disappeared into the small kitchen.

“I would if you were a real messenger, but I know these flowers weren’t from him. Besides, I don’t even have an admirer. He only liked the fact I got almost naked in front of him. Most men would act strange after that.” George shouted from the kitchen, feeling more amused than annoyed, “Now, tell me. Why the flowers? Really.” He asked as he cut of the ends of the flowers and filled a vase with some water, before putting them in there. When he stepped outside he found John snooping around the apartment, probably hoping to find any dirt of either him or Paul to use against them. George let him, though, knowing he wouldn’t find anything he didn’t already know.

“Just thought it’d be funny to see you trying to explain that to our dearest Paulie. He’d never believe you got them from me and would demand to know who your new secret lover is. He won’t leave you alone until he knows. Which he won’t figure out, because there isn’t anyone, is there, Geo? I mean, there hasn’t been anyone for the last year.” John told him as he sat himself down on their scruffy white sofa they stole from somewhere. John and Paul had gotten it somewhere, though neither said they’d remembered where actually. Except that it hadn’t really been stolen since the place they had found it in had been abandoned. It hadn’t been white when they’d gotten it, but it sure was now. Paul was a fucking natural at cleaning pretty much anything. Especially with their help. George put the vase on the coffee table before sitting himself down next to John on the couch. Apart from the couch there wasn’t much else to sit on, though it was rather large and it could easily fit five people, six if you didn’t mind getting squished.

“Give me a rest, John. You haven’t been in a relationship this year either. So really, you’re being a hypocrite.” George told John as he sat with his back against the armrest and curled up his legs.

“Right, Harrison. At least I got laid like two days ago. I bet your cock hasn’t seen much more than the darkness created by your own fist.” John told him with a knowing smirk, making George blush.

“Piss off…” Was all he could say. John laughed at that, before standing up.

“Great comeback. Really. Want a beer to forget about your nonexistent love-life?” He asked. He patted George’s shoulder when the younger man nodded, and went to the kitchen to get them a drink.

***

"You wanna know what I think?” John asked after they’ve sat and talked for about an hour. George looked up from the guitar on his lap and waited for John to continue.

“Stippers… they are all teasers, you know. Of course they are, but you know what’s worse than a stripper?” George shrugged, not being too sure he wanted to know where this was going now that John had downed two beers and was currently smoking pot in his livingroom.

“Straight strippers.” John told him matter-of-factly, and George’s lips curled up in a smile as he realised where this conversation was going. It wasn’t be the first time John talked about this.

“I mean. It’s not fair, you know. You get all worked up about this guy and then he goes home to fuck his girl?! Like, what’s up with that, you know? There’s no magic or what ifs in that, you know. It’s all a fucking lie.” The older man continued, taking a drag from his ciggy, before offering George some. George reclined and continued strumming some lazy chords as he listened to John ranting on.

“It’s rude, even! Making me create some wild fucking fantasy around you and then saying you’re straight. I know nothing would happen with a real stripper, but still. I’d like the possibility.” John went on and George merely nodded in agreement, knowing better than to try to argue with him on the matter when he was getting high. There would be no way of getting anything logical out of him or to understand logic at all, actually.

“Besides, they’re all bisexual at least!” John finished, and George couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“Paul isn’t bi, John. He’s straight.” He told him, still laughing.

“And how would you know?!” John asked, sounding as bitchy as his expression, which only made George’s laughter worse.

“Er, because he told me?”

“But come one! Why else would he be taking his clothes of for men and allow them to drool over them and squeeze his bottom and make cat calls at him as he walks by? He must at least be a little interested, right?” John argued. George only cocked his head to the side and put the guitar down besides him on the floor, before replying.

“It’s Paul we’re talking about, John. They guy has an ego from here to tokyo! Of course he’d want men to find him attractive and want him and be the best at it too. He likes the attention! Hell, and it makes plenty of money, too. Far more than he’d be making if he stripped for women.”

“Yeah, well. He still liked cock. Maybe he just doesn’t know it yet.” John grumbled and George chuckled, before throwing his pillow against John’s face.

“Don’t start to act all grumpy now. If you get truly desperate I’ll let you fuck me, yeah?” He giggled, blushing at the words that were coming out of his mouth.

“Let me?! Come on, Geo. You’d let me right now if I wanted to. You know that.” John told him with a smirk and George shook his head.

“Whatever you say, John. Now, get us another beer, yeah?”

***

It was only half past six when John got off from the couch and started gathering up all the plates and cartons of leftover take-out and tidied up the place a little, going as far as grabbing George’s plate from him before George was even finished.

“Eh! I was still eating that!” George exclaimed, wide eyed and honestly surprised by John’s horrible actions. John laughed at him, before picking up a few dumplings and pushing them into George’s mouth.

‘Here, munch on this while I clean this up so Paul wouldn’t have a heart attack when he gets home. We have to leave soon if we have to be there at seven.”

“Sewven?! Buf mhe flub wond opfen hill hine!” George tried to speak with a stuffed mouth. Tears started to water behind his eyes and he desperately started to chew on the food in his mouth and forced himself to swallow. He glared at his friend when he noticed him looking at him with just a little too much sadistic amusement. He was clearly biting his tongue to keep himself from laughing.

“The club won’t open till nine. Why would we be there by seven?” George repeated, taking in large breathes to get his oxygen level back on track. He rubbed his eyes to wipe away the tears.

“Because Eppy said so and he’s the boss. Now, get your makeup done and get dressed before I’ll have to do it for you.” John said, still trying to bite back his laughter. George nodded and got up to do as John asked as John cleared the place, knowing John would if he didn’t hurry.

***

When the two of them arrived at the club, George was shaking on his feet. John’s driving was as bad as Paul had claimed it to be and George had almost seen death. He wasn’t even exaggerating. At least, he didn’t seem to think so.

“I’m not that bad! Don’t be such a pussy.” John shot at him, his face tight and a little frustrated.

“No, really. You are! Next time I’ll walk. Gladly.” George told him, staring down at the ground as he caught his breath and tried to calm himself a little. The heels weren’t making it much easier for him to stay standing and he had to hold onto a chair to keep himself upright.

“Alright, now you’re just fucking messing with me!” John said as he watched George stumble to a chair to hold onto. George didn’t have the time to reply, because Mr Epstein had already walked into the club, holding his notebook once again and wearing his standard black suit. 

“Ah! Mr Harrison. See you haven’t quite fixed your alarm clock, although I can’t really complain about this particular outcome.” Mr Epstein joked as he approached the two men. George smiled apologetically, but Brian laughed and clasped his shoulder in his hand.

“Don’t worry about it, lad. You’ve more than made up for it with that performance. Much better than Sutcliffe would’ve done had he not been ill.”

“Thank you, Mr Epstein. But my alarm clock is fine. I had to ride with John to work, since Paul’s out all day before work.” George explained as he swallowed thickly and felt his body slowly return to normal.

“Ah, I see. Well, you can stay here until John and I are finished. It shouldn’t take too long. After that you two can help me get everything ready before we open.” Brian told him and George nodded to say he understood, looking around to see what he could do to pass the time.

“Yeah, about that Eppy. What was it we’d be doing again?” John asked suddenly from behind them. Brian sighed and started to skim through his notebook, as if he was searching for something.

“There are a few people coming here to look around the club and see what we can offer them for a certain bachelor party.” He said thoughtfully.

“Who then?”

“Not sure. I’d say someone important if they really want to get the whole club for as long as they say.” Brian answered, frowning down at his notebook, before looking back up at the two younger man before him.

“Anyway. Let’s get to work, right, John?” He asked and John nodded dutifully. The two man walked out of the room to the backstage area and left George on his own. He sighed and stumbled over to the stage to sit down. He groaned when he realised he had left his phone at home and wouldn’t be able to play a stupid game until the others would be back.

***

George continued to sit there for a while, his legs bungling down from the stage. He hummed a little tune to himself as he looked around the club. It looked strange now that it was completely empty and lighted up by daylight from the few, normally hidden windows. It didn’t look any different from any other club George has ever been to, save perhaps the strippoles and dirty images on the walls. His eyes fell onto the seat where the blue-eyed man had been sitting last night. George wasn’t sure why he was still thinking about him. It wasn’t the first time someone cute had walked in and caught his eye, but this was the first time he couldn’t simply put him out of his mind. Even when he closed his eyes, he could see those shiny blue eyes staring at him. It was odd and George didn’t like it at all.

Sighing, he looked up at the pole next to him and studied it for a while. A little while later, he gave in, took off his heels and got up onto the stage bare footed. He could at least try to do something productive with his time now he was here. He looked up at the pole and did a few stretches before wrapping his hand around the pole. He walked around it a few times, making sure to step on his toes, before pushing away with his feet and swirling around the pole for one entire round, his other hand coming up for extra leverage, before landing perfectly onto his feet again. He smiled proudly at himself and repeated this a few times, before changing direction and going the other way.

Deciding he wanted to do something more, he stepped away for a bit, studying the pole, before climbing onto it with his hands and feet. When he was high enough, he curled a leg tightly around the pole and let go of the pole with his hands, allowing himself to slowly slide down, until his feet touched the floor again. He did it again, this time now stepping away first. Once he got down, he took a deep breath, before grabbing the pole tightly with both hands and throwing himself up, so he was hanging upside down and curled his legs tightly around the pole and pressed his hips firmly against it, before making sure he wouldn’t fall down and letting go, letting himself hang upside down for a bit. He was glad he had already changed into his short at home, or else he wouldn’t have been able to hold this pose. Once he felt his legs burn, he slowly threw them down again, landing once again on his feet. Wanting to do the fireman spin, he took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself again, before starting to walk around the pole once again, one hand wrapped around it, before speeding up. Right before he jumped up, he wrapped his other hand also around the pole and curled his legs up next to it as soon as his feet came off the ground. He smiled to himself and gave a small happy cry as he spun around the pole, slowly moving downwards, with some nice speed, making his hair wave.

Once he landed on his knees, the silence in the room was broken by the sound of someone applauding. Shocked, George looked up and into the room to see who had been watching him. His heart sped up in his chest as he saw the blue-eyed man standing a little at the back of the club in the shadows. When the other man noticed George looking he stepped out into the light with a shy smile.

“Sorry. I er… I didn’t want to disturb you. I just thought you were good.” The man said, folding his hands behind his back and wiggling nervously back and forth on his heels. George didn’t say anything and simply stood up on the stage, pulling himself up by the pole.

“I saw you yesterday. I… you were good.” The other man continued, trying to make this less awkward and George gave a half-smile.

“Thanks. Er… we’re not yet open.” He told the man as he looked him over. He was shorter than he had expected and was wearing a simple pair of tight-fitting jeans and a simply red button-up shirt. His brown hair was short at the sides and longer at the top, but still reminded George of his own hair-do. When the man took a few steps closer to the stage, George realised the man had quite a large nose, too, in comparison with the rest of his small physique.

“I know. I was here to discuss some things with the manager. We were almost done, so I figured I’d have a quick look around. Of course, I hadn’t expected to see you here. I wouldn’t have bothered you otherwise.” The smaller man said and George cursed when he felt his cheeks blush at the way the other man was looking at him. He wasn’t used to be looked at like that. It made him nervous.

“You weren’t bothering me. I was only practising. Waiting for me friend to finish.” George explained. When the man moved even closer and started to reach into his pocket, George wasn’t sure if he should move away or not. Though, the other man didn’t seem to be the type to try to cut him or anything.

“Right. Well, my apologies anyway. Erm.. Here’s a little for the show. I don’t want to feel like I’ve stolen anything when I leave.” He said as he got out his wallet and produced a few bills. George’s eyes went wide and he quickly shook his head and held up his hands.

“Oh, no. Really, that’s not necessary. It was hardly a show at all.” He said, but the other man still handed him the money. When their eyes met, George couldn’t do anything other than take the guy’s money anyway, not wanting to hurt the guy’s feelings or anything.

“No, take it, please. I’d only feel bad if you didn’t.” He said as George took the money from him. He counted it swiftly and had to keep his eyes from widening as he saw he was holding twenty pounds.

“I can’t take this.” He tried, but the man had already turned away with a happy smile on his face and George felt his heart flutter at the sight. He looked so adorable.

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll probably see each other again soon.” The blue-eyed man said as he turned to walk out of the door. George quickly jumped off the stage and stared at the blue-eyed man as he left.

“I’m George, by the way!” He quickly called after him. And just before the other man had left the room, George managed to hear him call his own name back. Richard. Richard Starkey. 


	4. Chapter 4

It wasn’t long before Brian and John returned to him after the blue-eyed man had left the room. George had moved to sit back down on the stage, and he hadn’t been able to stop smiling. Even when John came over to him and he tried not to give anything away, his lips continued to curl up. When he noticed the little grin on the older man’s face, he realised John probably knew he had seen the blue-eyed man again.

“You okay, Georgie? You look like you’re about to throw up, but are actually liking it.” John said as he hopped onto the stage next to him. George refused to look at his friend and simply watched as Brian started going around the club with that little notebook of his. Over time he had actually started to get rather curious about what was in it, since he was always carrying it with him.

“You want to steal Brian’s notebook with me?” George asked seemingly out of nowhere, ignoring John’s previous remark. He could see John frown at that as he turned to look at Brian. “I kind of want to know what’s in it, you know.” He added and now it was John’s turn to smile.

“Sure. Whenever you want.” He replied, turning back to George. George smiled back at him and offered him his hand.

“Partners?” He asked and John thought about that for a bit, before reaching for his hand.

“Alright. But let’s leave Paul out of this. He’ll probably try to stop us, thinking we’ll be invading his privacy.” John said, not yet taking George’s hand.

“But we sort of will, won’t we?”

“Yeah, but privacy is overrated.” John told him with a shrug and George laughed at that, before taking John’s hand.

“Deal.” He said and the two of them shared a mischievous look, before letting go of each other’s hand. George looked away and and found his eyes being drawn to the door through which the blue-eyed man - Richard, his name was Richard - had left. The money he had tucked in his shorts was burning into his skin. He shouldn’t have taken the money. He had only been practising. But he hadn’t been able to say no to those gorgeous bright blue eyes.

“You’ve seen him, too, haven’t you?” John asked knowingly as he watched George’s face. A smile crept back onto George’s face, as his cheeks flushed red. He looked down in embarrassment and watched at his feet dangle in the air as he refused to answer John’s question. John already knew, though. It was fairly obvious.

“So?” He asked. George shrugged and turned away a little. He didn’t want to talk about what happened, knowing it was probably nothing and he shouldn’t think anything of it, but he couldn’t help it.

“Nothing. He saw me practise and he told me I was good. That was all.” George told him as he got up from the stage. Just as he wanted to walk away, John grabbed him by his arm and pulled him back.

“Don’t be a tease. Obviously something happened, with the way you’re blushing like a fucking schoolgirl.” John pressed on, but George wouldn’t give in. It wasn’t important anyway, and nothing else had really happened between them.

“I’m not!” The younger man snapped at him as he pulled himself free and quickly walked over to Brian to ask if he could help with anything before the club would open. He could feel John’s eyes still on him and he knew he wouldn’t leave it with this.

***

George didn’t meet up with Paul when he came in. He was about five minutes early and John and him were sharing a ciggy before the club would open, feeling a little worn out from following Brian’s orders for the last hour or so. They could see Paul walking in with a pretty redhead on his arm, and George could hear John groan at the sight of her.

George himself didn’t particularly mind when Paul could take his girlfriend to the club after they’d gone out together or something. He thought Paul was lucky to have found someone who didn’t care about what kind of job he had and even went as far as coming with him to work to watch him. It’s was rather sweet, in a weird way. John didn’t seem to think so however. It had probably something to do with the straight strippers being teasers and not fair idea he had. Still, Paul didn’t care and as long as Brian was okay with it, he’d take her with him whenever she wanted.

Paul was giving her all of his attention and he seemed genuinely happy with her. George could see the appeal. She was eighteen years old and looked like a model. She had long hair with bangs and wore very light make-up, making her look very natural with just the right accents. She dressed modestly, but nicely. Not only was she very pretty, but she was also funny and sweet and was clever. She worked as an actress and although she only got small parts, she was getting parts and was good at what she was doing. George figured she could get far if she wanted to. It also helped her family was rather well off. Paul was lucky to have found her.

She took a seat at a table and only now did George see she had two friends with her who George didn’t know. Another girl, probably a little older than herself, and another lad. Once Paul had left to get ready for work, George went over to them. He greeted Jane and she seemed happy to see him. He got introduced to her friends but he had already forgotten their names right after he had heard them. She told him she wouldn’t stay longer than an hour or two at most, as she was only there to see Paul. George nodded and took their order, before getting their drinks. Soon more and more people came in and soon the place was packed, which wasn’t surprising since it was a Saturday evening.

***

He only saw Paul again when he was getting ready for his performance. He found him before a mirror, fixing his makeup and hair. He was looking good and when he saw George he smiled.

“Hey! You didn’t die. You know, I was almost afraid John had drove the two of you in a ditch.” He said as he noticed George standing behind him through the mirror. George laughed at that.

“We came pretty close. Next time you can’t pick me up, I’ll walk. Anything but that.” He joked and Paul smiled knowingly at him, having sat next to John as he drove many times before. Only recently had he decided he’d be the one driving if he had to share a ride with John.

“Dinner went well I take it. Since Jane is still here.” George asked and Paul nodded.

“Yeah. Her parents liked me, which was a relief. Of course I didn’t tell them I take my clothes off in public for men, but that’s only a minor detail, don’t you think?” He said, as he continued to do his hair, combing it a little bit better in the right shape. George as always surprised at how easy Paul could fix his hair. Then again, knowing Paul he would have had plenty of practise.

“What did you tell them?” George asked as he leaned against the wall next to the mirror Paul was using, his hands in his pockets.

“That I was studying at University. They didn’t ask further.”

“Lucky you. You didn’t even have to lie.”

“I don’t lie, George, I just don’t tell the whole truth.” Paul told his friend with a wink as he pulled away from the mirror and studied his clothing (or lack thereof), before turning around and walking over to the stage. George wishes him good luck, before returning to his own job.

***

He couldn’t stop himself from looking around himself to see if the blue-eyed man was there as well, but he didn’t spot him. Still, he continued to look around as he brought people their drinks and teased them. One guy, not particularly attractive, but not too old either, asked for a striptease, so George gave him one, making sure to smile and whisper dirty things into the guy’s ear to get as much out of the guys wallet as possible. The guy seemed practically in heaven and when George pulled away with a wink, he handed him a generous tip, for which George kissed his cheek. After he got some more drinks to hand around and found himself back at Jane’s table, who was watching with flushed cheeks and slightly red ears as her boyfriend hung upside down on the strippole.

“Enjoying yourself, miss Asher?” George asked in a fake posh voice and Jane almost jumped in her seat, having been too transfixed on Paul to have even noticed George had put her coke in front of her. He grinned knowingly at her as he blushed even more heavily, feeling like she has been caught.

“Don’t worry.” George told her, leaning down to whisper in her ear, the jazz music being rather loud so close to the stage, “You’re not the only one drooling over him.” She smiled up at him, before reaching in the pocket of her jeans. She got out a white piece of paper and a pen and quickly scribbled something down on it, before folding it up and handing it to George.

“Would you hand this to Paul?” He asked, raising her voice to make herself audible over the music. George took the note and bended down to put it in his heels for safe-keeping.

“Sure.” He promised, but when he looked back at her, she had already turned away from him to watch her boyfriend again who was making some very lewd hip movements. Not that Jane seemed to mind.

***

By the time Paul’s performance had ended George still hadn’t seen the blue-eyed man, who George really needed to start calling by his name. Richard, not that hard right. He hurried backstage with Jane’s note and quickly handed it to his friend, who had just splashed some water in his face.

“Jane asked to give you this.” He said as Paul crooked an eyebrow at him. Paul smiled at the mention of her and quickly unfolded the paper and started to read. George leaned forward on his toes, trying to get a sneaky look at what she wrote, but he couldn’t see it well enough. However, when he noticed the excited smirk on his friend’s face he had a pretty good idea what she had written.

“Geo? You wouldn’t mind covering for me, would you?” Paul asked as he read the note a second time.

“Why?” George asked, even though he knew why. Apparently, Paul knew that too.

“You know why, Harrison. Just give me fifteen minutes. Twenty at most. I’ll owe you.”

“Oh, really. For when I’m going to have hot and sweaty sex with my girlfriend in a toilet at a gay stripclub where I’m working.” George asked with a grin and Paul nodded.

“Or boyfriend. Whatever. I don’t judge, you know that.” He said and George rolled with his eyes. When he saw Paul was still waiting for an actual answer he nodded.

“Fine. But you owe me.” The words hadn’t even left his mouth, or Paul had already slapped his back as a thank you, and had headed out without another word, obviously being very excited for what he and Jane were going to do before she’d leave. George chuckled at his friend, before following him out. He needed to get back to work if he wanted his cover for Paul to be believable.

George had just been about to give up on that idea that Richard might be there this evening, when he heard someone entering the club behind him, taking a cold breeze of air with him. He slowly turned his head to see if he knew the person as he placed some drinks down for people. He almost gasped when he saw those familiar pair of blue eyes looking around the club. Quickly, George looked back at the man he was serving, not wanting to meet Richard’s eyes just yet. He didn’t want to give the wrong impression.

He nearly fell forward when the man he had been serving gave his arse a firm smack, and he had to grab to table not to fall onto the man’s lap. He tried not to get annoyed as the man told him something about even good boys liking spankings, and only smiled at him as he moved to stand upright again. The man pushed a five pound note in the front of his shorts and smirked at George pretended to get shy about it. Actually, he just wanted to get away from this man. He freaked him out. He quickly gathered the empty glasses from the table and left for the bar, where he asked someone else to bring the drinks for him. Luckily, the other guy accepted without even asking why. They would do that whenever someone didn’t feel comfortable around someone. People looked out for each other. Having men get thrown out wasn’t always the best option, so this was a good way to keep everyone happy.

He leaned against the bar and looked around the room again as he bit his lip, knowing the Richard had to be around. It took him a while to spot him, but when he did he felt his palm started to sweat. He was sitting at the other end of the club, near the entrance, and seemed to be on his own again. Without thinking, George grabbed a tray and walked over to the other man, feeling the twenty pounds in his pocket, intending on giving it back.

The other man didn’t seem to notice him until George was standing right beside him. He coughed and when the guy finally turned to look at him, he smiled carefully, feeling oddly shy around him. The guy narrowed his eyes at him, and for a second George’s heart fell, but then the guy seemed to recognize him and smiled broadly at him.

“You again?” He asked, sounding both surprised and happy to see him. George shrugged.

“It happens you know, when you work here.” He joked and he sighed in relief when Ringo chuckled at that.

“Right, sorry.” He said, looking down, only to look straight at George’s crotch which was clearly visible in his tight shorts. Quickly he looked back up again, his eyes wide and a blush on his cheeks. George smiled at him, letting him know it was okay.

“I er…” George started as he reached into his pocket and produced the money the other man had given him earlier, “ I wanted to give you this.”

“No. That’s for you. I told you.” Ringo quickly said, shaking his head and refusing to take it back.

“Please, it’s too much. At least let me give you ten back.” George insisted, but again Ringo shook his head.

“No. Just take it, it’s fine. I er… I enjoyed the show.”

“It wasn’t even a show.”

“Well, I still want you to take it.” Ringo said, sounding stern and for a second George was lost for words. Ringo looked back down again, this time at his table. George nodded and put the money back in his pocket.

“Alright. At least let me buy you a drink, then. From me. On the house.” George tried, meeting Ringo’s eyes when the guy looked back up at him. The lad looked him over for a second before giving in with a sigh and a small twitch of his lips.

“Okay. That sounds fair. Scotch and coke would be fab.” He agreed and George told him he’d be right back. Ringo nodded and George was almost certain he was watching him as he walked back to the bar, where he saw Paul and John smirking knowingly in his direction.

As he reached the bar, John and Paul were still smiling, now looking at his directly. George tried not to meet their gazes, but eventually he had to, feeling nervous under their looks.

“What?” He asked as he turned to them. Paul looked like he had just had the best sex in his life, his hair still ruffled and his shirt wrinkled. His were still red, chapped and swollen from the many urgent kisses he probably shared with Jane. Still, the smug and knowing look on his face made it difficult to make fun of him.

“So nothing happened, eh?” John asked him and George tried not to give anything away and merely rolled his eyes as he poured the scotch and coke for Richard, who was waiting for him.

“Fuck off, Lennon. Nothing did happen.” George told him, trying to keep his voice steady. John merely chuckled at that.

“Which is why he came back.” He said and Paul nodded in agreement.

“And why you rushed over to him as quickly as you could.” He added. George looked between the two of them, and shook his head.

“You guys are idiots.” He told them, but they simply continued to grin at him. George decided to ignore them and put the bottles back where het got them from, before walking off with the scotch and coke in his hands.

“I told you he liked you!” John shouted after him, and George felt his face redden again as he saw Ringo watching him with a curious look on his face, obviously having noticed their little exchange.

George took a deep breath and smoothly placed the drink before Ringo and flashes him a smile. The other man smiled back at him, before waving with his hand in the direction of the bar.

“What was going on there?” He asked and George huffed a laugh as he shook his head.

“Nothing. They are always teasing me. It’s because I’m the youngest. Even though Paul’s only nine months older.” George muttered bitterly as he watched Ringo take a sip from his drink. Ringo smiled at that and looked George up and down, making George feel nervous and insecure.

“How old are you, then?” He asked and George answered before he had even thought it through. Normally he would never give away anything personal about himself. But then again, normally he wouldn’t take the time to chat with any of the guys he met in the club. They only had one thing on their mind. Richard seemed different.

“Twenty-one. My birthday was in October. You?”

“Twenty-four. July.” Was the answer George was given. He nodded at that and shuffled on his feet a little as he waited for the other man to say something.

“So which one is your boyfriend?” The older man asked and George looked up at him with a frown on his face. When Ringo nodded into the direction of John and Paul, George burst out in laughter.

“Oh no. They’re just my friends. I don’t even have a boyfriend.” He said, words coming out in quick succession, giving him little time to think about his answer or where he was going with it. Ringo didn’t seem to mind and merely smiled back.

“That’s good.” He muttered and George stared at him, not sure if he had heard properly. Ringo drank some more of his scotch as he continued.

“Thanks for the drink, by the way.” He said and George gave a nod, before turning away, knowing Paul and John were still watching them. Ringo didn’t call him back as he walked away, so George got back to work, occasionally returning to the blue-eyed man to wait on him and talk to him some more as the night dragged on.

As they continued to talk to each other, they grew more comfortable around each other, though Ringo never asked anything more of George than something to drink or about his personal life, which made George a little nervous. He wasn’t used to being so scantily clad while having relatively normal conversations with someone and it made him feel naked. Not that he particularly wanted Ringo to ask for a lap dance or make lewd comments or to grab a quick feel. It was obvious he tried to flirt, but his comments never went further than cheeky, for which George was glad. He wasn’t sure if he could act like he normally did with the other customers if Ringo would ask. Ringo was different from anyone else he had ever met in this club and it made him feel both uncomfortable and relaxed at the same time.

***

It was just past one o’clock in the morning when George was talking to Ringo again as he handed him another scotch and coke, when Ringo’s phone began to buzz. He excused himself and checked his phone as George waited patiently, fixing his outfit as he watched the older man from the corner of his eyes. When he saw the man wincing, he looked back up again.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, and Ringo smiled apologetically as he typed his reply.

“I have to go. I’m sorry, but it’s urgent.” He explained and George tried not to let his disappointment show. He nodded and waited for Ringo to finish his text and scotch, before taking the empty glass from him.

“What evenings do you work?” Ringo asked and George nearly dropped the glass, not having expected that question. He looked at Ringo with a surprised expression. Ringo’s expression looked genuine.

“Err… Tuesdays, Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays.” He stammered and Ringo nodded as he typed the dates in his phone. George continued to stare at him, but Ringo didn’t elaborate on the question. Instead, he put his phone back in the pocket of his coat and got out his wallet. Only then did George realise Ringo hadn’t paid him anything except the prices of the drinks. When he got out some bills, George already started to refuse, but Ringo wouldn’t have any of it.

“Just take this. I’ve used up too much of your time to leave without a single tip.” He told him and George didn’t object anyone as Ringo tucked the money in his shorts with a playful grin on his face. George couldn’t look away from him and he felt his ears grow a little red in embarrassment.

“I guess I’ll see you around again, George.” Richard said as he pulled away and got up from his seat. George nodded and smiled as the man used his real name rather than his stipper name. “I had fun talking to you.”

“Me, too.” George replied with a smile as Ringo put on his coat, before saying goodbye one last time and quickly rushing out of the door into the cold night. George continued to stare at the doors long after they had fallen shut again and he nearly jumped two feet in the air when he felt someone squeezing his bum.

“That’s not a man who’s only interested in you because you take your clothes off for money, luv. That guy wants you for you.” He heard Paul whisper in his ear, but when George turned to face his friend, Paul had already gone. He hoped he was right, though.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, just a remember that I'm not checking the spelling and grammar when posting this. I'm just copying it directly from how I published it on tumblr four years ago, so apologies for mistakes that are undoubtedly there.

Ringo shivered as he stepped outside and into the cold night. Whereas the club had been warm and oddly soothing to his nerves, the sharp cold reminded him once again of the stress and exhaustion his body was going through. He had wanted to go home after the meeting with Mr Epstein, but he had wanted to see that stripper again, George. It had been worth it. He had made him forget about everything that was going on in his life, and he had really needed that after so long. But now he had to report back to Pete. He pulled his coat a little better around himself and made sure it was closed properly, before sticking his hands in his pockets and walking towards his car, which he had parked a few hundred meters further down the street.**  
**

Soon his mind was brought back to that stripper again. It was odd how much he seemed to like him, even if George probably thought of him nothing more than just another customer. The younger lad was nice and friendly and could even be funny, although he seemed rather quiet. Shy. But he was fun to be around. What had started out as sexual attraction, had now changed in something else. Ringo found himself curious about him, about his life and friends and what he did besides this. Not that he had asked him that, of course. He didn’t want to be rude and he certain didn’t want to make the other man uncomfortable around him. He enjoyed talking to him, and the last thing he wanted to do was scare him away. It had been awhile since he had last been able to simply talk to someone. It was odd he had to find that under such odd circumstances.

He smiled and remembered this night and the night before when he had first seen George, as he walked to his car, and the cold didn’t seem as bad anymore. He sighed and checked his phone one last time after he had gotten into his car, checking to see if Pete had texted him anything else. When he saw he hadn’t, Ringo groaned and gathered up courage, before driving off. He had to go. Pete had asked him, too. And if Ringo fucked up once more, he was certain he’d get fired. It didn’t matter that they had been friends before Pete had become his boss. After Pete had gotten that promotion, he had changed. And not for the better. He still couldn’t believe he had asked him, his personal assistant, to organise his bachelor party. That was not part of his job description. Ringo had difficulty feeling happy for the ‘lucky girl’ that was about to become Mrs Pete Best.

Why their relationship had changed so much, Ringo couldn’t remember exactly. He knew Pete had been angry with him when he had managed to get the spot in that band, and not him when they had both auditioned, but he didn’t think that would be enough reason for Pete to get this angry at him and actually use him. It had simply happened once he had gotten the power to do so and it made Ringo question if their friendship has even been genuine at all. Or maybe Pete had never liked him. Maybe he had never even liked Pete.

He arrived at Pete’s house in about twenty minutes. It was completely dark out and even darker surrounding Pete’s house, the light bulb in the street light near his house having been broken. It has been broken for ages and Ringo doubted it would ever be fixed. Pete certainly didn’t seem to mind the lack of light in front of his house, valuing his privacy highly. Ringo parked next to the broken street light and made sure he had everything, before getting out of the car. Swallowing thickly, as he was scared to think about what Pete wanted from him now, he shut the door and locked the car. Step by step, he carefully approached the house.

***

George had difficulty keeping his mind on his job as he worked the final hours of his shift. He only needed to go on for two more hours and he’d be finished, but he couldn’t keep himself from thinking about those beautiful, bright blue eyes. He had really enjoyed talking to Richard, even though he had felt a little uncomfortable, since he wasn’t used to be doing that with anyone he didn’t know in a strip club. It was completely against everything he stood for. He would not fall for a customer and be drawn into some cheesy movie in which he’d be represented by Julia Roberts- because the world was so hetero and gender normative.

He sighed and went over to John to get himself some water, his throat being rather dry from trying to keep his strained breathing under control and as sexy as he could manage, and all the talking he had done with Richard. The older man didn’t seem to be very into work anymore either. A fake smile disappeared almost immediately once the customer who was sitting at the bar turned away from John to look at the stage where some guys were dancing around in their thongs. He didn’t even bother to return it when he noticed George coming his way.

“Don’t tell me,” John said in a hushed tone with George was close enough, “The guy actually gave you his phone number?” George chuckled at that, but shook his head.

“Hardly. He did say he’d come back, though. Even asked me when I was working.” He replied, his voice just as soft as John’s. He said down onto one of the seats by the bar and leaned forward, letting his head rest onto his hands, elbows on the table. John smiled proudly at the answer and quickly tapped George a class of water.

“Lucky boy, aren’t you?” He asked. George faked a smile, but shook his head.

“It’s nothing, though.” He said, but John shook his head as he gave George his water. George thanked him, before gulping the whole glass down in one go. Once his glass was empty he handed it back to John, who filled it for him again.

“It’s weird though, don’t you think?” George asked out of nowhere after a few minutes of silence. John looked up from his work of cleaning some more glasses. A lock of auburn hair landed before his eyes, and he blew upwards to move the hair away from his face. When it only flopped back, George snickered. John merely grinned and shrugged, before stepping closer to George, not bothering to push it away properly.

“What is?” He asked.

“Richard. He only wants to talk. He never asked me anything or indicated that he wanted anything else from me. It’s weird, right? I mean, if you’re going to a strip club, you want to see some nudity and gauge freely at some young, handsome boys that take their clothes off at your command, you wouldn’t really want to spend all your time talking to one stupid, shy waiter?”

“Maybe he’s into that kind of stuff.” John suggested with a wink, but George didn’t laugh.

“I know I’m reading too much into it. I’m a stripper, not dating material.” He muttered sadly. He had to bite down his lip when John reached over and placed a calm hand on his shoulder.

“George, don’t think low of yourself. Paul’s right, you know. He likes you for you. You just don’t see it yet. Maybe he hasn’t seen it yet, either.” George didn’t answer to that, preferring to leave the subject as it was and moving on with the next.

***

For the remaining hours of his shift, George worked mindlessly, going off on experience and instinct. It seemed to work. No one complained about his lack of mental attendance, giving George enough time to overthink what had just happened that day. It seemed odd to him. Yesterday he had seen him in the audience and now he was already looking forward to him coming back again to talk to him. Not that he would deny Richard if he would ask for anything more, but George doubted he’d do that. He hoped he would be coming back. And on one of his work days, too. Since he had asked when he worked, George should be able to say that he’d be back with confidence, but actually he wasn’t able to do that at all.

He sighed to himself as he wondered why he had had to leave so suddenly in the first place. Obviously it hadn’t been planned. George had seen the slightly scared expression on the older man’s face when he had read the text. He really wanted to know what it had said. Maybe he had a boyfriend who had been wondering where he was? Maybe Richard wasn’t even supposed to be here and was his boyfriend mad at him? Or maybe he had caught him going to a strip club? It wouldn’t surprise George. The man was handsome and adorable and actually very nice and funny. Anyone should be lucky to have him, and normally boyfriends and girlfriends don’t particularly like it when their boyfriends go to stripclubs to stare at other men or women. Or maybe his boyfriend had had an accident or something? What if something bad had happened?

George tried to put the thoughts away, hoping they weren’t true and that it had been something else. He wasn’t sure what had upset him most, the idea that something bad had happened or that Richard had a boyfriend. He sort of felt betrayed, which George knew was absurd and not fair. Just because he liked Richard didn’t mean Richard liked him or had to tell him if he had a boyfriend or anything. He wasn’t obligated to tell George anything, seeing as he was just a stripper. He sighed again and had a quick look at his watch. Just half an hour to go. Deciding, he didn’t feel up to it, he went backstage to freshen himself up and change into something a bit more comfortable and less revealing.

***

As George and Paul sat in the car back home, George thought of a way of letting Richard know he liked him. He knew he was being stupid. He knew it was against the promises he had made to himself, about never going after a guy he had met at the club, but he found it difficult to make himself care. He remembered what Brian had told him about the appointment with Ringo. About a bachelor party. Was it Ringo’s? Did he have a girlfriend? Was he engaged? Was that why he had had to leave so suddenly. Had she been waiting for him? George whined at his own stupidity. He knew he shouldn’t have assumed Richard had been gay. There were plenty of bisexual and even straight men that came in regularly. Had Richard only visited to club to check it out before his bachelor party? To see if it could offer what he wanted? Maybe he had liked him, and maybe he had wanted him to be there for the party for his own filthy entertainment.

Perhaps that was why he had asked what days he worked? Perhaps that was why he had told him they’d see each other again? Had he really been that stupid? Had he actually thought Richard liked him? There was one way to find out. He had to either talk to Brian, or steal his notebook to see if there was anything in there. He knew he had to go for the later option, knowing Brian wouldn’t tell him anything, saying it was confidential. At least, he had already persuaded John to help him steal it. He would figure it out.

“George?” Paul broke the silence in the car. George turned his head to look at him.

“What?” He asked.

“Do you like him? Richard? Honestly this time. Without thinking of any of the circumstances. If you would just have met him on the street, or even at university, would you have liked him?”

“Yes.” George sighed. It was the truth, which was why the thought of Richard not thinking of him the same way made him feel nauseous and uneasy.

“You deserve to be happy, Geo. If he likes you too then don’t push him away because of what kind of job you have or anything like that. Life and love is hard enough as it is.” Paul told him. George didn’t answer him and looked back out of the window again. He had to find out more about him.

***

It was eerily quiet when Ringo stepped into his own apartment. It was half past three in the morning and he needed his sleep desperately. Especially because he had to work the next day and had to get up at eight. Still, it wasn’t as early as he sometimes had to wake up, but Ringo would’ve been far happier had he been able to sleep a little bit longer. Say twelve. Or just the whole day. That would have been even better. But no luck for him.

He groaned and threw all his stuff on the little couch in the living room, before locking the front door behind him. He didn’t bother to hit the light switch. He just needed a nice, hot shower, a cup of steamy tea from the kitchen and his own save and comfy bed. He left his stuff where it was, knowing he needed them the next day anyway, so there was no point in putting everything away properly. He merely grabbed his phone from the pocket of his coat and stumbled further through the dark apartment and towards the bathroom.

Luckily, the late meeting with Pete had gone better than expected. He hadn’t done anything wrong, but he merely wanted a report on how things were going with the arrangements of the party and go over some last things for the meeting he had that morning at half past nine. It was an important meeting with someone who could give the theatre a lot of money, which was truly needed. They needed to do some restorations on some of the older buildings, which would cost them lots of money.

Of course, Pete had taken the time to ask why Ringo thought he’d need to visit the strip club more often in preparation of the party. Ringo’s answer had been vague, knowing he didn’t actually have to, but he made some excuses about getting closer to the strippers and see which ones would work best and the get a better feel of the place so he could use that for when the party actually took place. Ringo knew it was a rubbish excuse, but he had said it with enough confidence that Pete had given his okay. And with the party still being almost a month away, it would give Ringo enough time to see George again and not worry about his job performance or the costs. He already felt excited at the thought of seeing the younger lad again.

He turned on the shower and undressed quickly, putting all his clothes into the laundry basket, before grabbing his toothbrush so he could brush his teeth in the shower. He laid out a towel for himself to use for when he was done, before stepping under the warm and soothing stream. He moaned as the warm water hit his skin and soon he was all warmed up again, all the cold and dampness being washed away with the sweat and dirty of the day. Almost immediately his thoughts are being drawn to George again. He imagined him being there with him, sharing the same air as they showered closely under the same shower. He imagined him standing behind him, his longer and skinny body crowding up behind him as he spooned up against him, his arms curling around his waist, before pulling them together, so that Ringo would be able to feel his interested cock against his arse.

Ringo sighed and closed his eyes as he soaped up his body, imagining it were George’s rough hands that he felt on his body. His breathing grew more strained and when his fingers reached his half-hard dick, he started to play with it teasingly, like he expected George would do. When he came he breathed out George’s name and leaned against the wall with his hands as he caught his breath, a satisfied smirk on his lips. After he quickly washed his hair and washed all the soap from his body, before quickly brushing his teeth. Once he was finished, he got out again and started drying himself as best as he could.

After he wrapped his towel around his waist and walked to his bedroom, where he was greeted by a little black cat. She meowed at him cutely and stretched herself out on his bed, but didn’t bother to get up, knowing her owner would come over to her. She started purring when Ringo sat down onto the bed next to her and started to pet her, scratching her behind her ear and whispering sweet nothings to her. She leaned into his touch and continued to purr, as she enjoyed the petting she was receiving. Once she had enough, she got up and jumped off the bed and tippled over to the living room, probably to have something to eat or drink. Ringo watched her go with a smile on his face, before changing into his pajamas.

Before he got into bed, he examined himself in the mirror and tried to think of the way George thought of him. Did he find him attractive? Did he think his head was too small? Or his nose too big? Did he dream about his bright blue eyes (he had been told those were his best features)? Did he think of his lips as kissable? Did he like the smallness of his body? Or did he think of him as simply little? Did he think he was too skinny? Or perhaps to fat? Or did he think he was perfect just the way he was? Ringo smiled at himself in the mirror at that last thought, before catching himself and rolling with his eyes at his own stupidity. What was he doing anyway?

He sighed and switched on the lamp on his bedside table and crawling into his bed, humming as he was engulfed in that warm, comfortable cocoon of pillows, blankets and mattress. He promised himself to go see George again that following Tuesday, since he’d be working again. Perhaps if he showed up enough, he would notice he liked him and would feel more comfortable and self-assured around him. Maybe he could even ask him out. Ringo fell asleep with a peaceful smile on his face. Not long after, his cat jumped back onto the bed and curled up against him and fell asleep as well.

***

That following Tuesday, George went to work with excitement. He could see Paul grinning at him as they got ready, but George didn’t care. He would see Richard again. It had seemed ages since he had last seen him, even though it had only been two days. He hoped he would be there. He hoped he hadn’t forgotten about him, but something told him he hadn’t. It was an odd feeling, something he hadn’t felt before, but it felt good. Paul had laughed at him when he had told him, saying he was acting like a girl in one of those romantic movies. Again, George didn’t care. And he wouldn’t even mind if he was one of those girls.

He worked happily and with a smile. He kept a close eye on the door and everytime someone came in, he looked up hopefully, only to be disappointed when he saw another unfamiliar face. Still, he kept his hopes up, knowing Richard knew he was working this evening. Besides, it was a Tuesday evening, perhaps he had work. George didn’t have a clue what Richard did for a living and he was starting to wonder what they had talked about two nights ago? He couldn’t remember, but he knew it had been nice, so he wanted to talk to him again.

John teased him about it of course, saying that maybe he should prick his finger on a spinning-wheel. Just to see if he’d come sooner then. George had faked a laugh, before avoiding him for the rest on the evening. When Paul noticed, he told John off, saying he shouldn’t be mean. George hadn’t missed the way John had nodded obediently and promised Paul he wouldn’t, before licking his lips hungrily when Paul walked away again, swaying his hips. At least John didn’t bother him anymore that evening.

George continued to keep a close eye on the door and even walked circles around the club and checked the bathrooms to see if he had perhaps missed him. But when the club closed for the evening, Richard still hadn’t turned up.


	6. Chapter 6

Paul noticed almost right away that something was off about his friend. He had been quiet again all night as they drove home and when they finally got home, George had stumbled off to bed without another word, the door falling shut rather loudly behind him. Paul bit his lip as he remained standing in the doorway, his coat over his arm, as he considered following his friend. In the end, he decided to give him some time and space. He stepped inside the apartment and made sure to lock the front door, before hanging up his coat and taking off his shoes. He patted barefooted into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of wine as he got out his phone to check for any messages. He had class that following morning and he had to be there at eleven, which wasn’t too bad. He was going to be tired, but he’d had worse.

He took the glass and had a sip, as he walked back into the living room, where flicked on the lights with his elbow as he sent Jane a goodnight text, like he always did when he got home. So what if he was sappy and romantic. Jane loved it, thought it was cute. And as long as it got him laid, Paul didn’t mind to be that way at all.

He had just been about to sit down and read a little before bed, when he heard a loud thud coming from George’s room. He jerked up in fright, nearly spilling the red wine all over his white shirt. Cursing, he quickly put the glass down as he listened for any more sounds.

“George? You okay?” He shouted, but his friend didn’t answer, “George?” A muffled moan sounded through the door and Paul got up from the couch immediately, fearing something was wrong. He pulled the door to George’s door open without warning and barged in, calling out his friend’s name again, asking him if he was okay. He found George lying on the ground, half curled up in his sheets and rubbing his head.

“Ouch… fucking hell…” George grumbled quietly, glaring angrily a shelf on the wall above him.

“What the hell did you do?” Paul asked, biting his tongue to keep himself from laughing at the ridiculous scene. George turned his head to meet his eyes. They were still glaring, but looked a little hazy, probably from the dizziness he was most likely experiencing.

“Nothing…” George mumbled as he tried to scramble back onto his feet. Paul giggled at his grumpiness as he walked over to him to help him. George let him and soon enough they were sitting on his bed together, Paul inspecting the hurtful spot on George’s head.

“Well, at least you didn’t hurt yourself too badly. What were you trying to do anyway?”

“Nothing… just… trying to grab something.” George should have known better than to say anything that vague. Paul’s lips curled up in an excited and mischievous smile as he let go of George’s head and walked over to the shelf. George tried to reach out for him to stop him, but it was in vain.

“Something, eh?” Paul grinned as he moved a few things around on the shelf until he found what he was looking for hiding underneath a stack of thick books on religion George used for university. He could hear George groan behind him as his fingers reached for the little magazine.

“What do we have here, eh? Were you looking for this, George? I don’t think this is appropriate material for university, though. Or perhaps there’s such a thing as a sex religion or something.” Paul smirked, and before he had even uttered the sentence, the magazine had been pulled from his grasp again.

“Piss off, Paul.” The younger man mumbled as he crawled back into bed. Paul turned back to him and knelt down besides his bed where he started to lightly play with George’s hair.

“Aw, it’s okay, Geo. I understand our little baby is curious.” He said in a mocking soothing voice. George mumbled something again that Paul could only assume was another insult. He laughed, before reaching over to grab the magazine again. Apparently, he had surprised George with this, for he could take it easily from him.

“Paul, come on. I’m horny. Just give me the magazine and let me do what I want, okay. It’s not like you don’t have any filthy magazines, either.” George rolled over so he was facing Paul again. He watched with a flushed face as Paul began to skim through it, frowning at certain bits and flushing himself at others.

“I guess I just thought you wouldn’t need this, or at least had grown accustomed to it with the job you’re doing.” Paul told him with a shrug, his eyes taking in a particularly handsome young man who was rocking himself against another particularly handsome young man’s arse.

“We’re doing, you mean. Give it back!”

“Why are you so grumpy?!” Paul asked, closing the magazine and putting it on the ground next to him, as he captured George’s eyes with his own. For a second it seemed that George was at loss for word. He blinked at him a few times, his mouth slightly ajar, as if he could start speaking at any moment. Paul waited expectantly, but George wouldn’t answer. He merely tried to roll over again, but Paul wouldn’t let him.

“It’s nothing. Just… I’m a fucking idiot. But we knew that already, didn’t we?”

“George…”

“It’s true.” George mumbled, lowering his eyes, but Paul shook his head.

“What’s wrong?” He asked and George sighed, before giving into him. Paul could see he was feigning reluctance, but judging by the high-pitch in which he was speaking, he gathered George was actually glad to get it off his chest.

“I thought Richard was going to come tonight, but he didn’t. Stupidest thing is that I liked him and even thought he liked me for a moment. Well, apparently not. I’m stupid, I know. Why would I have expected anything in the first place. I didn’t even know him. I only met him a few days ago!”

“You’re mad because he hasn’t turned up today?”

“Not mad! Just disappointed, I guess. I sort of thought he would, you know?”

“Did he say he’d come?

“…”

“George?”

“No. Not really. I mean, he said we’d meet again and he asked me when I would be working, so I figured, you know…” George muttered softly, his voice dying down. Paul smiled at his friend as he slowly began to realise his own mistake in his line of reasoning. “I must be very stupid.” He finished. Paul quickly shook his head and laid a careful hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“No, you’re not. Just… enthusiastic.” He tried with half a smile. George chuckled at that, which gave Paul hope. “Listen, Geo. Don’t get hung up about it. He was probably busy. He’ll come back.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Sure, if he promised you. Why not?” Paul said, faking a smile. He wasn’t as certain himself, but he’d rather not see his friend like this. Besides, perhaps this Richard was the type of guy to keep to his promises to strippers. How ever unlikely that sounded.

“Thanks, Paul.” George said with a yawn, drawing Paul back to him. The older man smiled and handed George his dirty magazine back, before standing back up again.

“Now, go have a good wank, sleep and don’t bother me anyone. There’s a very deliciously cheap wine waiting for me and I’d like to finish it before dawn.” He joked, and George smiled even wider at that as he took the magazine and put it beneath the sheets to shield it from Paul’s hands just in case. He nodded, and laid back down as Paul began to leave, wishing George a good night, which George returned.

***

The following day George tried to push Richard out of his mind and focus on his university work for a while. He had an essay to write for that following week and he hoped to be able to finish it before the weekend in order to create some time for himself, which he desperately needed. Combining work with university was difficult, but he was able to do it since he worked in the evenings and had few lectures and classes through the week, giving him plenty of time to do his work in between. But it was tiring and sometimes George just needed a day or two for himself. To sleep, to eat and to play his guitar. He missed plucking those strings and creating the most beautiful sounds and melodies. If he was lucky, he would be able to manage a jam sessions with Paul and John again, like before when they had all been friends and living in good old Liverpool. He missed home and he was counting the days until he would be able to go home for a weekend and see his parents again.

The amount of work he had to do was large enough for George to take his mind off Richard and everything that had happened and simply live his life again without having to worry about boys other than his sometimes rather annoying (and loud) room mate and his girlfriend, but then he could also go to the library if needed. He had worked so hard that it had almost seemed as if he were in a trance, and when it was finally time to go to work again, George was honestly surprised.

He stood there in the middle of the room, a plate of food under his nose, staring blankly at his friend who was dressed in a long black coat. The only thing that would give him away to not being dressed properly underneath it, was the outrages make-up he was wearing and the slight hint of stockings underneath. Paul rolled with his eyes, before grabbing the plate from his friend and dragging him along, while calling him an idiot that couldn’t even take care of himself, had he not lived with him.

***

It was only when he stepped inside the club again that Richard came back to him. He felt a shiver run up his spine and he wasn’t sure whether the feeling he was having could be called excitement or just plain nausea. He and Paul quickly went backstage to get dressed and meet up with Stuart (who had lucky got over his illness) to discuss their performance that evening. They would dress up as cops, Brian had decided, and although George wasn’t so sure about the whole thing, he was surprised when even Paul began to object. Still, they had to wear it and that was the end of the discussion.

As the shift of the evening started, George tended half-heartedly to the customers, his eyes being drawn to the entrance once again. But no Richard walked in. He tried not to feel disappointed and kept working and hoping that Richard would still walk in. When a client asked for a private lap dance, George bit his lip, before reluctantly following the man to one of the smaller, more intimate rooms. Normally he wouldn’t have minded this one bit, but what if Richard would walk in when he was busy? What if he would look around and leave again when he saw he wasn’t there? Would that mean the end? Or was he just being overly dramatic. Deciding that the last was more probable, he smiled at the rather handsome man as he held the door open for him. Besides, it wasn’t every day a handsome man would ask for anything like this, so why not enjoy himself for a little bit? If he didn’t he would regret it for the rest of the week.

The guy was in his early thirties, stylishly dressed in a pair of grey slacks and a light blue shirt. George figured he had probably come straight from the office, judging from the smudges of ink on his hands and the darker circles under his eyes. He had light brown hair, which shimmered almost golden in the dim light of the room and when he sat down on a comfortable love seat that was placed a little away from the wall, George couldn’t help but wonder if he looked as good naked as he did in that suit. He figured he should take his opportunity to find out, as long as the other man didn’t stop him.

“What’s your name?” George asked, not liking the idea of not being able to refer to the other man while doing his ‘thing’. The man smiled shyly, before answering.

“Michael.” The man answered, but it didn’t sound sincere. Still, at least George had a name, even if it wasn’t his real one. He didn’t care, though. It wasn’t like he knew his. He nodded almost faintly as he stepped closer to the seat, making sure to make his heels clack on the floor and to sway his hips. Michael’s eyes lowered themselves from George’s face to the man’s body, landing on his crotch, before letting them take in his skinny, but long legs. George could see the man take in a deep breath and lick his lips. He placed his hands on his thighs and leaned forward a little, so George stopped, keeping his distance. When the man didn’t look up at him anymore, George lifted his head to meet his eyes by lifting up his chin with his pointer finger. When their eyes met, George took his final step and sat himself down in the man’s lap. Michael took in a deep breath, probably from shock, and continued to stare into George’s eyes as George slowly started to move, probably too shy or nervous to look anywhere else. Smirking, George placed his hands on the other man’s shoulders and started gyrating his hips, allowing his bum to bump lightly against the other’s man crotch, teasing him.

It was clear to see what George was doing to the other man as he felt him get hard under his movement. Although the man tried hard to remain eye contact with him, his eyes kept fluttering close every so often and when his lips parted to let a shaky moan escape, George chuckled lightly, and started to unbutton his tight shirt that was pulled tight over his body. The man’s eyes followed his fingers as the moved, exposing more and more skin. Michael let out another moan and George could feel his fingers brushing curiously over his thighs, obviously trying to keep himself from simply grabbing him.

“He-ha-have you… been d-doing this… for long?” Michael asked breathlessly as George’s hand moved even lower and started to cup himself through his tight briefs. George couldn’t help but chuckle at that and leaned in closer, letting his lips brush against the skin of the man’s ear.

“You seriously want to talk now?” He asked as he pulled away again, knowingly fully well the other man was only nervous and obviously didn’t know what to do. The man looked up at him and he suddenly looked a lot younger to George, more innocent and slightly scared. He shook his head.

“No!” He replied quickly, “Just… curious, I guess.”

“Nervous?”

“That too.” The other man confessed and George chuckled again, as he shuffled closer to the other man and cupped his cheek in his hands.

“Just enjoy yourself. It’s all good.” He said as he rolled with his hips, allowing his bum to rub fully against the other man’s crotch, who whined at the pleasure and frustration it was probably giving him. George moved his hand back down again and touched himself once more, before undoing the buttons of his briefs. The man’s eyes widened and when he saw a soft satiny pink appear, the almost choked on his own breath.

“You like that?” George asked, his voice husky as he rotated his hips again. Again, he could feel the other man’s fingertips brush against his bare thigh.

“C-can I… touch you?” He asked, his voice tight from sexual frustration. George wasn’t sure how to answer that question. Most people never even dared to ask, or simply went and did it without asking, which meant George would have to tell them off. Still, he was touched by the man’s shyness and sincerity and that combined with that frustration he still felt for Richard not turning up, he nodded, giving him his consent to touch him. The man’s eyes widened at that, obviously not having expected that, and took a couple of deep breaths, before slowly sliding his hands up over George’s thighs, caressing the skin he found there and marvelling at the softness of it.

George always shaved, as Brian preferred his boys being cleanly shaven and smooth to the touch. It wasn’t obligatory, but George did it anyway, secretly liking the way it felt when he rubbed his legs together, but also when someone would touch his shaved skin. The sensation was so different. Closer and more intimate in a way. His skin tingled pleasantly with every touch.

He allowed himself to relish the feeling, before continuing, slowly sliding himself off the man to position himself between the man’s legs and lining up his crotch with his face, as the man continued to caress his thighs, and only his thighs, never touching anything else. He didn’t even slap or squeeze his bum when he let it bounce before his face.

Once their time was up and George had managed to make the guy stand proudly and erect in his slacks, and his face to flush a bright red, he pulled away from him with a naughty whisper into his ear. He wasn’t even sure if Michael had heard it, for he didn’t react. He simply sat there, dazed and very frustrated as George left him alone to take care off himself. Before he shut the door behind him, he mentioned the tissues and a bin the corner.

When Michael nodded his response, George left. It was only when he was outside that he noticed his own briefs were a little tighter than normally as well. Still, he decided that sexual release could wait and made use of the situation by gathering tips. The customers seemed to enjoy the view more than enough to hand him a few generous tips. He had a quick look around for Ringo but no one was there.

He glanced at the large clock at the back of the club, overhead the bar and noticed it was almost time for the performance. He dealt with the last customer, before heading backstage where he was greeted by a rather aggravated-looking Paul McCartney and a cocky Stuart. He cocked an eyebrow, but Paul shook his head, telling him not to ask questions. George knew better than to ask anyway and simply got changed into his little uniform.

George got even more confused on stage. He, Paul and Stuart danced almost perfectly, even if George’s mind was still occasionally wandering to a certain blue-eyed Richard, and his eyes was look around the room for just a tad bit too long, missing the beat only just. Luckily, the crowd didn’t even seem to notice. Paul however, was too busy glaring at Stuart to notice anything off about George’s performance and Stuart merely tried his hardest to ignore Paul, for as much as he could at least.

The tension on the stage was terrible and it gave the whole performance a rather odd feel. There was aggression behind Paul’s glares and no matter how much George tried to figure out what had happened between the two of them, he truly didn’t know.

It wasn’t the first time Paul and Stuart had acted this way, and many times the roles had even been reversed. Stu and Paul just didn’t get along too well. They were friends, as they hung out with the same people and they could even admire each other, but there was always that hostility between the two of them and it was something neither of them wanted to talk about. George hadn’t been able to put his finger on it and now again the whole thing was a mystery to him. He was almost certain something was going to happen between the two of them, the tension being too intense.

However, if George had expected anything, it had been from Paul. But actually it had been from Stuart. George and him and locked Paul onto the strip pole using a pair of handcuffs and were taking turns with Paul on the pole, as they put up some kind of act. Honestly, George wasn’t sure what the idea behind it all was, but he didn’t really care. Not when he was practically humping Paul as they hung from the pole, Stuart next to them to help them and play with them from the sideline. However, when the act ended, and Stuart was supposed to undo Paul’s handcuffs again, he simply followed George off stage and left Paul hanging. Brian, who had been watching the whole performance with a disapproving eye, since he had noticed all three of them were preoccupied, ordered him back, but Stuart merely walked on. George rolled his eyes and quickly ran back to help Paul off the stage again. Paul huffed a thank-you into his ear, but when George asked him about it later, he wouldn’t answer.

***

At the end of the day, Richard still hadn’t turned up and George felt glad he had done that session with Michael and allowed him to touch him. As childish as it seemed, it was pay-back. He didn’t mention it to Paul, and when they got home, he simply went to bed, figuring he should have a wank first using his favourite magazine. The one Paul hadn’t yet found.

That Friday, George went to work with the hope that he would see Ringo again that evening, as it was the day that he had first seen him at the club and therefore knew he could be able to come. The tension between Paul and Stuart was still there, but now John was there again, it seemed less. Or at least more controlled and not as visible. When George asked John about it, John merely grinned and rubbed his hands together mischievously, which made George only more confused. However, he decided that his own little mystery was a little more interesting and instead kept a close eye on the door again. When Richard again hadn’t shown up, George tried not to feel disappointed, but he couldn’t help it.

Saturday he went to work feeling satisfied. He had finished his essay that morning and had managed to play guitar again all afternoon. He couldn’t stop touching his fingertips to feel the roughness there that he had missed so badly. He only noticed Richard still hadn’t stopped by again when he was in the car and Paul asked after him. When George went to work again that Tuesday, he didn’t even feel disappointed anymore, knowing Richard wouldn’t come anymore.

***

It was almost another week later when George saw Richard again. It was Saturday evening and George had almost forgotten all about him, when he heard the door of the entrance open. Subconsciously, he turned his head to see who it was and he froze on the spot when he recognized those familiar blue-eyes again, even though that happy sparkle that George had been able to find in them before was gone at that moment. Their eyes seemed to meet for a fraction of a second, but that same feeling of recognition didn’t seem to exist for the other person, as his face fell and he sat down at a table in the middle of the crowd.

George was shaking on his legs as he stared at Richard. He couldn’t believe he was actually there! After such a long time, too. George had already given up on him, not having believed he’d be coming back again. But he had! And he obviously had been looking for him, even though he hadn’t been able to recognize him.

He watched from a distance as Richard watched the pretty boys in front of him and drank his alcohol. Occasionally, he could see Richard’s gaze go through the crowd, probably in the search of him, but every time George quickly duck away, feeling nervous about seeing him again. It had been so long! What if their meetings hadn’t at all been so wonderful and it was only a figment of his imagination? What if it would only be awkward if they would speak again? George didn’t particularly want to know. So he kept his distance.

The lights in the club dimmed and George watched as his friend stepped onto the stage wearing short shorts and a tight navy blue sailor-esque shirt with a white scarf. He watched quietly as his friend started to dance, playing the audience perfectly well and capturing their full attention. Even Richard seemed interested, staring at Paul with hungry eyes as he licked his lips. His eyes seemed to be glued to him and it made George’s blood boil. Taken by a suddenly rush of determination, George grabbed a bottle of beer from the counter and walked over to Richard, who was still watching his friend strip.

“Hello?” George asked when he was standing near enough. The other man didn’t even look at him and merely beckoned George to put the bottle down for him. George did just that, before leaning over and blocking the man’s face with his own. He watched as the man’s eyes grew wide, now finally recognizing him.

“George?” He asked, sounding surprised, but happy. George refused to feel happy to be recognized. Why was he even here? Why hadn’t he come sooner? Hadn’t he known he’d wanted him to come again? That perhaps he had been waiting for him? George felt his blood rush even faster when Richard’s eyes found Paul again, who was now prancing around in only his underwear and scarf. Everyone seemed to love it. Even Richard.

Feeling a sudden rage come over him because of this face, George smacked Richard’s cheek, earning himself a loud gasp and a short cry of pain. Richard looked up at him with a confused and surprised expression, which made George even angrier. He had to leave. He had to think. He didn’t want to see Richard ever again. He slapped him hard once more. When he was about to walk away, Richard grabbed him by his wrist and pulled him back.

“What’s wrong? Why did you hit me?” He asked, and George felt the urge to laugh at him straight in his face, but he figured himself to be better than that, so he simply pulled himself free and called Richard a cunt before rushing to the bathroom to lock himself away, leaving Richard stunned in his seat.

**Author's Note:**

> Before anyone's gonna ask me for a sequel focusing on John and Paul's relationship... most likely not gonna happen unless I some day find the urge to write it. For now, I have other fics I want to focus on.


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